<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Cry Little Sister by darlingdisastrous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754004">Cry Little Sister</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous'>darlingdisastrous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lost Boys (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cunnilingus, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Fivesome - F/M/M/M/M, Fluff and Angst, French Kissing, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending, Human/Vampire Relationship, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Michael Emerson is a Dumbass, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Motorcycles, Murder, Murder Family, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Divorce, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Fluff, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Temporary Character Death, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bites, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Virginity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are the Emerson's sister and get mixed up with Santa Carla's notorious bad boys.</p><p>(Follows the events of the movie.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David (Lost Boys)/Reader, David (Lost Boys)/You, Dwayne (Lost Boys)/Reader, Dwayne (Lost Boys)/You, Marko (Lost Boys)/Reader, Marko (Lost Boys)/You, Michael Emerson &amp; Reader, Michael Emerson &amp; Sam Emerson, Michael Emerson &amp; You, Michael Emerson/Star (Lost Boys), Paul (Lost Boys)/Reader, Paul (Lost Boys)/You, Sam Emerson &amp; Reader, Sam Emerson &amp; You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Keep going!”</p><p>“Hey—I like that song!”</p><p>“Keep going, Mom.”</p><p>Mom huffed but complied. The station picked up a staticy country song.</p><p>“Ooo, what about this?” She giggled, shooting you a secret look in the mirror. <em>Teasing</em>.</p><p>“Keep going, mom,” said Michael.</p><p>More static, until the middle part of an old sixties tune began to play. Mom perked up, “Oh, this is from my era!” She sang, her voice well meaning but off key. “<em>Groovin’ on a Sunday afternoon!</em>”</p><p>Michael and Sam shared a look before saying, “Keep going!”</p><p>You gapped, “Wha—no. <em>I</em> like this song.”</p><p>“Keep going,” they said again.</p><p>You sneer at your brother. “Who died and made you king of the radio.”</p><p>Michael moved to flick your forehead, but you smack his hand away before he makes contact.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” Mom cranes her neck to look at you through the rear view mirror. “No fighting, please? Here, I’m changing it.”</p><p>She turned the dial and stumbled onto a popular rock station. The boys relaxed into their seats, finally listening to good music. You roll your eyes and settle back in your seat, arms crossed. </p><p>You can’t wait to get out of the car. You’ve been on the road for nearly thirteen hours now, stopping only to refuel or if one of you really had to pee. You were dying to get out and stretch your legs, which had become a near permanent bed for Nanook to rest his head. Sure, you liked the dog, but sometimes he got on your last nerve. </p><p>Especially now, road trips made everyone cranky.</p><p>“Hey, we’re almost there.” She gestures to a brilliant blue billboard with bright red letters reads WELCOME TO SANTA CARLA. </p><p>Sam wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”</p><p>Mom took a deep breath and sighed, “That’s the ocean air.”</p><p>“Smells like someone died.”</p><p>“Aw …. Honey.” Mom merged into a new lane. The general distaste for the place was not lost on her. She glanced back at you and Michael, and rubbed Sam’s arm. “Look, guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy, but I think you’re really gonna like living in Santa Carla.”</p><p>Outside your window is a kaleidoscope of weirdness. Immediately you’re hit with crowds of people walking or leaning out their windows as they drive whooping and hollering. A woman wearing roller blades and a bikini skating confidently.</p><p>Michael nudges your side. “Did you see that?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“The <em>sign</em>.”</p><p>“What about it?”</p><p>Whatever he was about to say is drowned out by Mom. “We’re going to gas up really quick, okay?”</p><p>She veers the car off of the main road. A crowd of people disperse, making room for the car to pull in but not without complaint. You hunker down in the back seat until they’re all gone. Punks—vicious ones at that. Not your type of crowd.</p><p>As soon as the car stops your careening out of the vehicle. For the thick of summer, Santa Carla is mild. It must have something to do with being on the coast. You shield your eyes, squinting over to the beginning of the sandy beach. It’s packed.</p><p><em>Damn</em>, you wish you’d bought sunglasses, but having to constantly change them out with the glasses you physically needed to see, you decided they were more hassle than they were worth.</p><p>Sam comes running back to the car, Nanook in tow. You’re not sure you saw him run off in the first place but it makes you nervous that he just went off.</p><p>“Mom!”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Mom, there’s an amusement park right on the beach!”</p><p>She glanced at it a moment before passing Sam a few dollars. “Sammy, go tell those kids to get something to eat.”</p><p>Across the way, a few teens around your age were dumpster diving, picking up half eaten sandwiches and sniffing them. You lean against the car, shifting your weight. <em>Runaways</em>. This place seemed to be crawling with them. </p><p>Sam reluctantly walks the cash over, gesturing towards where you and Mom stood. The kids accepted the money, eager yellow smiles greeting you. Mom smiled and they returned the gesture with their yellow-toothed smiles.</p><p>When Sam returned, he jutted his chin towards the boardwalk. “Can we go now?”</p><p>“Maybe later.” Mom waved him off, pulling out the pump. “Grandpa’s expecting us”</p><p>A couple of surfers pass the car. One whistles at you, “How <em>you</em> doin’, babygirl?”</p><p>You stiffen, not deigning to respond. Instead, you open the back door and stuff yourself inside. So much for stretching your legs. </p><p>Soon enough, mom and Sam climb back in the car. Michael, who had unloaded his bike, rides on behind the car the rest of the way to Grandpa’s. The lively scenery fizzles out, turning into dirt roads, bleached from the sun, and overgrown fauna. </p><p>When the car stops, you tentatively pop open your door. The house is … not what you expected. Michael hops off of his bike, walking on ahead of you, but stops short. You follow his gaze and see a pair of legs peeking out from behind the fence.</p><p>The four of you approach with caution. Not once does the man move. You share a look with Michael.</p><p>“Is he <em>dead</em>?” you ask.</p><p>Michael echoes. “He looks dead.”</p><p>Mom waves you off and climbs the porch. “He’s just a deep sleeper.” She shakes his arm, “<em>Dad</em>. Dad, wake up.”</p><p>Michael inches closer, not getting too close to the maybe-corpse, but close enough to have a good look. “He’s not breathing, Mom.”</p><p>Sam pops his head in between you two, Nanook trotting up the steps to get a sniff. “If he’s dead, can we move back to Phoenix?”</p><p>You wack him on the back of the head. “<em>Dude</em>.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>The maybe-corpse sits up, one eye open. “Playin’ dead … and from what I heard, doin’ a damn good job at it.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>Dad</em>!” Mom embraces him, laughing at his incorrigible attitude.</p><p>You exchange a look with your brothers. What a weird old man.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Unpacking the car was fairly easy. The house, which <em>seemed</em> smaller due to the piles of junk packed into every small corner, was fairly large. Two bathrooms, one upstairs and one downstairs, as well as four bedrooms. One, which was obviously occupied by Grandpa, (though from the sound of it he didn’t sleep there), only stored more of his disturbing taxidermy.</p><p>Mom got her own room, which left two others.</p><p>Michael tried to pull rank, claiming that he was the oldest therefore he should get his own room; but you pulled your Woman Card—citing <em>exactly</em> why neither of them wanted to room with you.</p><p>So, Michael reluctantly had to share with Sammy. </p><p>You carried in your books by the armfull, neatly balancing a few more on your head. (A cool party trick but not useful in many scenarios—present one excluded.)</p><p>It was sad to think that this was a mere fraction of your collection. When the divorce was final, you had pawned off a good deal of your books for extra cash to help Mom out. She didn’t ask you to do this but you wanted to. It only seemed right.</p><p>You’re carrying in one of your boxes from the car when Sammy and Michael tear past you. “Watch it, dweebs!”</p><p>“Mom! Help me, help! He’s gonna kill me.”</p><p>Mom side steps, narrowly avoiding her fate. “Hey, no running in the house, guys!”</p><p>You sit your box on the table, holding it in place with your hip. You were prepared to rip them both a new one when they came to a screeching halt as Sam threw open a set of double doors. It lead into a once-spacious room and was filled to the brim with dead animal heads, disturbing tools and … <em>fresh</em> animal carcases.</p><p>“<em>Talk about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre</em>,” Michael mutters.</p><p>“Rules!” The three of you whirl around, coming face-to-face with Granpa’s stink-eye. “Got some <em>rules</em> around here.” </p><p>He motions for the three of you to follow as he trudged into the kitchen. He wrenches open the fridge door and points to a cardboard piece that reads OLD FART, covering the middle shelf.</p><p>“Second shelf is mine.” He flips it open, showcasing the goods that lay inside. “I keep my root beers and double-thick Oreo cookies in here. Nobody touches the second shelf.” Another pointed stink eye.</p><p>He takes his leave from the kitchen, the unspoken command to follow him clear in his gesture. He takes you back into the living room, listening diligently, when Michael speaks up.</p><p>“Hey Grandpa—is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?”</p><p>Grandpa trails off, “Ehhh … There’s some bad elements around here…”</p><p>Sam blinked. “Wait a second, lemme get this straight. Are you telling me that we moved to the murder capitol of the world? Are you serious, Grandpa?”</p><p>He shuffled around, considering his words. “Now let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up all at once, we’d have one helluva population problem.”</p><p>Mom, with two hats stacked on top of her head, stopped long enough to hear the tail end of the conversation. She rolled her eyes and said, “Great, <em>dad</em>.”</p><p>“Now, when the mailman brings the TV Guide on Wednesdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up ... You'll be tempted to peel it off.  Don't.  You'll end up rippin' the cover and I don't like that.”</p><p>He turned into the taxidermy room and, with a stern glare, began to shut the doors. “And stay outta here!”</p><p>Sammy jogs after, eyes bright. “There’s a TV?”</p><p>“No. I just like to read the TV Guide. Read the TV Guide, you don’t need a TV.” He slammed the doors shut with a definitive thud.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>You and Mom walk hand-in-hand along the boardwalk. You’d say that it was much better at night but that would be a lie. It’s just as sweaty and packed as before, only now there are more miscreants about. You would much rather be at home reading, but you endured the torture for her.</p><p>“Isn’t this place fun?”</p><p>“It’s … something.”</p><p>You wouldn’t deny the excitement of it all, but it wasn’t your cup of tea. A group of surfers pass you by, brushing a little too close. You shy away, gripping her hand tighter.</p><p>Mom giggles to herself, pointing vaguely across from them. “I think I dated that guy.”</p><p>You try to spot him but you’re immediately distracted by a four-sided announcement board plastered with MISSING posters. It has to be an inch thick, maybe more, with newer missing persons covering up the old. A woman in her late sixties is taping up another one. You’re quick to avert your eyes.</p><p>“Horrible,” you mutter.</p><p>Mom notices, her happy mood dampening. “That's the kind of thing that makes you sad with the world.”</p><p>“More like <em>depressed</em>.”</p><p>“You’ve just gotta hope they’re somewhere good. Somewhere better. Like me,” she motions to herself. “A little running away never hurt anybody. It’s all about improving your situation. That’s all.”</p><p>You hang onto her arm, resting your head on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me running away.”</p><p>“Thank you—I hope I never do. But if you want to, you know, just tell me.”</p><p>“I think that defeats the purpose.”</p><p>You laugh. It’s nice to see her laugh again. She’d been so depressed lately, what with the divorce being final (even though she and your dad had  been drifting apart for years) and losing her job.</p><p>In the window of one of the restaurants, a red HELP WANTED sign is pasted in the window. It catches Mom’s eye, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. However, her attention is ripped elsewhere. </p><p>She approaches a crying child, a kid you hadn't noticed until you were right up on him. She kneels to his side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. </p><p>She calls out to you. “I’m going to go in here, okay? I’ll see if I can find his mom. Just stay put for me.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>You watch her go, suddenly feeling out of place on the boardwalk. You look around, swarms of people laughing or smoking. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a used bookstore, some of their wears outside on a cart. You wander over and pursue the cracked spines. Some of them are so worn that you can hardly read the title.</p><p>You pick up a particular book, one that appears to be a serial Gothic Horror, and flip it over. The synopsis is mildly interesting, similar to dozens you’ve read before, so you can easily guess where the plot will go.</p><p>You look back to the video store to see a woman leading the little boy out by the hand. Good, he found his mom. Now, where was yours…?</p><p>Another group exits the video store. A group of punks around your age, draped in black leather and bad attitude. One of them catches you staring. Quickly, you avert your eyes, turning back to the book in hand.</p><p>
  <em>What was keeping her?</em>
</p><p>A figure blocks your light.</p><p>Prepared to rip someone a new one about personal space, you look up, coming face-to-chest with one of the aforementioned punks. He’s leering down at you with a heart-stopping smile. Long blond hair cascades down his shoulders in a well styled wave.</p><p>“Hello, hello, hello.” He leans against his arm, half-pinning you to your spot. “How you doin’, baby?”</p><p>He’s crowding your space, so close you can smell his cologne. It’s overwhelming, all at once, and you stutter.</p><p>“I’m fine.” You blindly put the book back and duck under his arm, “If you’ll just excuse me—”</p><p>A second punk blocks your way. He’s shorter than the other, cherubic face, curly blond hair forming a halo around his head. His smile was less than angelic.</p><p>“Where ‘r you goin’?” He doesn’t touch you, but his hand hovers inches away from your skin. “We just wanna talk to you.”</p><p>You try to turn and go the other way, but the first blond still stands in your way, trapping you between them.</p><p>“Yeah,” drawls the first. “We’re just being friendly. No need to run off.”</p><p>“I’ve gotta go, I’m meeting someone.”</p><p>The boys chuckle. It’s only then that you realize you’re <em>truly</em> surrounded. All four of the punks have gathered around you, the two not crowding your personal space standing a few steps away, leaning against a set of motorbikes. </p><p>Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You take a step back, bumping into the rail.</p><p>The bleached blond pushes off of his bike. “Aren’t you meeting someone right now?”</p><p>He fiddles with a cigarette behind his ear, piercing blue eyes pinning you where you stand.</p><p>The first bends down to your height, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s your name, baby?”</p><p>He draws out the word, <em>bay</em>-<em>bee</em>, in lazy flirtation. It’s effective, though, bringing heat to your face.</p><p>You tell them, if only to shut them up. “Really, I need to go.”</p><p>“So soon?”</p><p>Another ripple of laughter.</p><p>What you would give for Michael to show up. He might be a meatheat but he was bigger and his muscles tended to scare off a crowd.</p><p>“Don't you wanna get to know us?” jeered the shorter one.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Oh—you wound me!” The taller blond clutches his heart, feigning a wound. The boys laugh again. “The lady’s words do cut deep.”</p><p>He staggered back, knocking into one of his buddies before dramatically collapsing.</p><p>You catch a glimpse of Mom, exiting the video store. Seizing your chance, you push through the boys and jog to her side.</p><p>Mom takes one look at your face and her smile falls. “Are you okay, honey?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine.” You link your arm in her and pull her in the opposite direction of those punks. “Let’s just go, okay?”</p><p>The punks erupted into another fit of laughter and you flinch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>The next morning was spent unpacking boxes. You didn’t have much to put away in the first place, but you preferred the solitude of your room to the melodrama happening elsewhere.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael met a girl, giving his life has a new purpose. But, if Sam’s to be believed, Mikey didn’t actually talk to her—just followed her around half-the night. Honestly, you’re surprised he even did <em>that</em> at all. He’s never been good at approaching girls. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom ducked her head into your room. “Honey, do you want to come with me to the video store? You don’t have to hang around the whole time—Michael and Sam are headed to the beach if you want to join them?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Both ideas are equally terrible. On one hand, you risk another run in on the boardwalk with those unsavory punks. On the other, you risk crude surfers <em>and</em> your brother’s never ending agony.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ultimately, you know the beach is probably your best bet. After you got home last night, mom couldn’t stop talking about the <em>kind</em> <em>man</em> who <em>hired</em> <em>her</em> <em>on</em> <em>the</em> <em>spot</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You put two and two together, and you weren’t about to get in the middle of a budding romance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll go to the beach with Mike and Sammy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom smiles, relieved. “That’s great honey. We can all meet up at the boardwalk after my shift is over and get something to eat.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She blows a kiss and leaves. Her voice travels up the stairs as she tells Michael the news. He groans—probably complaining how his bike can’t fit three people, but mom shuts him down, saying he can drive Grandpa’s pickup truck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael stomps up the stairs and opens your door.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Knock first!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shouldda been <em>born</em> <em>first</em>,” he shoots back. “Listen—we leave at seven. Be ready by then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay—shut the door!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He doesn’t. <em>Asshole</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You get changed before seven, having spent all day in your pjs. You throw on a waffle knit sweater that used to belong to your mother and an over-sized skirt. You have no intention of getting in the ocean, but you’ll pack a couple of books to pass the time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When you get downstairs, both Sam and Michael are packed and ready, wearing wetsuits they got a few years back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam scrunches his nose when he sees you. “Where’s your swimsuit?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not wearing one.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What—is it <em>shark</em> <em>week</em> or something?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You flick him in the middle of the forehead. “No, you dweeb. You’d <em>know</em> if it were.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sammy shuddered in disgust.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The drive to the beach is somewhat pleasant. Grandpa gave official permission to Michael for him to drive his horrid pick up truck. But, however ghastly it might’ve been, it afforded you the space needed to pack everyone inside <em>and</em> the surf boards <em>and</em> some snacks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The sun was going to set in a couple hours, but according to Michael, this is one of the better times to surf. You arrive at the beach fairly fast but let the boys do the heavy lifting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lay out a towel and situate yourself far enough from where the water came in to prevent getting wet but not so far that you were on the hot, loose sand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael and Sam ran off with reckless abandon, hopping into the ocean without a second thought. You watched momentarily as they paddled further out before you began to read. It was an old classic—on of your favorites—and you settled in and immerse yourself in the story.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re not sure how long you were reading, long enough for the sun to sink halfway down the horizon and for you to get halfway through your book, when Sam came jogging up to you. He practically threw his board on the ground and sat with a huff.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Had enough?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sick of falling off,” he grumbled. He spread out his legs, hogging half of the towel. “Plus, those <em>terrorists</em> wouldn’t leave me and Michael alone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He jutted his chin towards the ocean and you peered over the edge of your book. Your brother was easy to spot, he was the one surrounded by surfers. You watched as one of them came a little too close to Michael and he, in his attempt to swerve, fell off his board.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam sneers, digging through your beach bag for a snack. “What a waste of space.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You jut your chin towards the ocean, motioning to where Michael was. “He’s not gonna give up, is he?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam deadpanned. <em>What do you think</em>?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s head popped up out of the ocean and he struggled back onto the board. The ‘terrorists’, as Sam has so eloquently named them, were paddling towards him. You were in for a long night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Around forty minutes later, the sun now totally gone and dusk overtaking the sky, Michael came running out of the ocean. He was tired and beyond frustrated. A little ways behind him, the surfer group that had been terrorizing him were laughing, their voices carried by the wind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tossed Michael a towel and he dried off furiously. His nose was taking on a pinkish red hue but you couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or sunburn.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s get outta here, Mom’s probably wondering where we are.” He jerked his head to Sam. “Help me pack up the boards, will you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sammy whined a bit, “I just wanna go home—can you drop me off, Mike? I promise it won’t take too long...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You take your time picking up, allowing the two of the to hash it out. It was only when the group of surfers approached you that you wished you had gone along with them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A wet, slimy hand smacked your ass. You jerked away, putting as much distance between you and them as you could.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How ya doin’, beautiful.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The surfers surround you, closing ranks. They’re still soaked by the sea but don’t seem bothered by it in the least. The ass-grabber has black hair with a white stripe. Mentally, you dubbed him Skunk-Face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You grab your towel off the ground and determine not to pay them any mind. However, Skunk-Face seemed bent on not letting you go. He steps forward,  blocking your path. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s nice girl like <em>you</em> hangin’ ‘round with chumps like <em>that</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You level a glare. “They’re my brothers.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The surfers laugh. Skunk-Face continues, “Your brothers can’t surf for shit. All they know how to do is wipe out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” you say, “You tend to fall when you’re being crowded like that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They <em>ooo</em>, nudging each other. A few hushed, nasty comments are thrown your way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You got a mouth on you,” says Skunk-Face. He closes the distance between you in one stride, taking hold of your wrist. He jerks you close enough that his wetsuit soaks you’re sweater, his disgusting lips brushing the shell of your ear. “<em>I’d like to see what else it can do</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The lady’s not interested, Greg.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The new voice startles you. You whirl around and come face to face with a black leather jacket. One glance and you know it was those punks from yesterday. Damnit—where were Michael and Sam?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Skunk-Face, or <em>Greg, </em>glowers at the interruption. “Get off of my beach.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Last I heard, the beach was public property, ay boys?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The bleach blond—the boardwalk punks leader—exchanged glances with his boys. It’s full of mirth and something else. You take a step back, lest you get in the middle of a brawl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Greg takes a step forward. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, man. Don’t test me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You step back again, falling in stride with the punks. Greg’s eyes flit between you and the group. And then—the strangest thing happens. He takes one look at the boys and his eyes widen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The expression is gone in a flash and Greg shakes his head, scoffing. “None of you deserve my time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The punks don’t leave until they’re far enough away. They don’t speak. You turn to face them, hugging your sandy towel against your middle. You feel disgusting and violated and are tempted to lose your cool at the punks, but their presence likely prevented a worse outcome. For that, you were grateful.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.” You push your hair back, holding it in place as the wind blows hard. “I appreciate your help.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not a problem, baby.” The taller blond smiles, tongue between his teeth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There it is again, that long, drawl <em>bay</em>-<em>bee</em>. You clamp your jaw. Maybe you <em>should’ve</em> run off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Believe it or not, those guys are bigger assholes than us,” said the leader. “What are you doing out here this time of night? Don’t you know there are weirdos around?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m here with my brothers.” They deign to look about the beach. No one is around save for the five of you. “They’re up there, packing up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wasn’t very smart of them to leave you alone. This isn’t exactly a safe place, you know?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” says the curly haired blond. “Just last week, a bunch of body parts washed up on the beach. They dunno if it was murder or an animal attack.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You frown. “You’re kidding, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why would we lie about something like that? Do you think we like scaring innocent girls like you for fun?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh, <em>yeah</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The leader cocks his head, sizing you up. His eyes burn as they trail over you, taking his him from head to toe, before he speaks. “You left before we could properly introduce ourselves. I’m David. That’s Paul, Marko, and Dwayne.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You vaguely take note of who is who, but your focus is entirely on getting out of there. “Have a nice night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What? Can’t hang, baby?” Paul snickers, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You smack his hand away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not that—I have people waiting for me.” Once again, you glance over the ridge, <em>praying</em> they haven’t somehow forgot about you. “Plus, I doubt I’d be much fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your words elicit a new wave of laughter. Marko punches Paul on the shoulder, but Paul traps him in a headlock. “I think <em>we’ll</em> be the judge of <em>that</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your face burns. “I didn’t mean—not <em>like</em> <em>that</em>, you perverts.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I dunno, Paul, that seems like the only way to take that,” says Marko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A hand reaches out—too fast for you to identify which boy, but you assume it’s one of the terror twins—and snatched your glasses from your face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You react a second too late. “Hey!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wow—” says one of the boys, you’re not sure which. “You’re pretty blind. How can you see?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t, you jerk! That’s why I have glasses.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How many fingers am I holding up?” Someone thrusts a hand in your face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Give them back!” You lunge at where you thought the boy was but only met air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stumble, until one of them helps steady you. “What’s the magic word, baby?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You bit your cheek. You wouldn’t cry in front of them. “<em>Please</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Actually, it’s da—<em>oof</em>!” Someone punches him before he can finish.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone pressed them into your hands. You take the glasses and quickly put them on, ignoring the smudge marks from their fingerprints.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The one who handed them to you was the taller brunet who—until this point—hadn’t spoken a word. Dwayne, maybe?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe there was a decent one among them. His lips twitched upwards into an almost smile. Fuck, he could be on the cover of a serial romance novel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyes are drawn to his chest but you quickly look anywhere else. He’s shirtless. You pinch your lips, heat flooding your cheeks. Look anywhere but at him—there’s a neat seagull, a kite, some trash...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are you reading?” Dwayne gestures towards your bag, the tip of your book peeking out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your lips part. You blink. To be completely honest, you hadn’t expected a single one of them to know <em>how</em> to read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, it’s called—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>BORING</em>!” shouts Paul. “Do you wanna party or not, babe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne glares in his direction but doesn’t say anything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you wanna catch a ride?” asked David, the <em>with</em> <em>us</em> an unspoken addition. “Seems like yours ditched you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it’s not that. They’re waiting for me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On cue, you see Michael leaning over the dunes. “<em>Hey</em>! <em>C’mon</em>, what’s taking you so long?! Sammy’s about to have an aneurysm.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Followed by a squeaky, “<em>Am not, Mike</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Coming!” You take a step, half-turning to the boys. “Um, thanks again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David tilted his head, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “The offer still stands.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re not sure which he meant—the ride or the … <em>lewd</em> <em>suggestion</em>. Either way, you pretend not to hear it and jog off of the beach to the beat up car. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael is standing at the edge, eyeing the group. “Are you okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t feel like getting into it, so you simply say, “Fine.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><p>***</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Mom is anxiously awaiting you at the edge of the boardwalk. She greets each of you with a hug and a kiss. “Where’s Sam?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Home,” said Michael. “He’s beat.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.” She eyed Michael’s bike. “How did you handle the ride over?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You scoff, “At least he didn’t crash this time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shoves your arm. “That was totally your fault.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stuck your tongue out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I’m starving.” Mom rubbed her hands together, smiling. “What do you say we go out to eat? I saw a great place a little down…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael shrugs, cutting her off. “I think I want to look around a bit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll meet up with you later,” he says, then disappears Into the crowd. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess it’s just you and me, kiddo.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Actually,” you say, “There’s a bookshop around here, I’d like to check it out if I can? I saw it last time and didn’t get the best look at it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure. I think I’m going to head home. Are you okay riding with Michael on the ride back? I know how you feel about ...” She gestured to the bike vaguely.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You cringe at the offending metal. “I’ll manage. Thanks mom.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, honey. Have fun, but don’t come home too late. It’ll make me feel better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Promise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She waves goodbye, heading for the Land Rover. You square your shoulders and head back into the masses. You know it’s across from the video store, but you’re not sure how you got there.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You begin your journey but after wandering aimlessly for nearly thirty minutes, you give up. Getting lost was not on the agenda tonight. You walked back the way you came, taking note of the familiar shops, before making it out to the parking lot. Luckily, his bike was still there, otherwise you would’ve been screwed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You waited for a while, leaning against the Death Trap (a name you’d affectionately given it a few years back), resting your feet. When you saw Michael heading back, you hopped up, prepared to call out ...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Until you saw him with a girl. “<em>Shit</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You looked around, seeking out any place you could hide but found none.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s puppy dog grin diminished when he saw you. He looked … different. He was wearing some kind of leather jacket, the tag still sticking out from his shirt sleeve. He’d even combed his hair back. He eerily reminded you of an off-brand version of David and his gang.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The girl with him eyed you warily. Michael rubbed the back of his neck, looking between you and her. When they came within a couple of feet from you, he stopped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Star, this is my sister.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You offer a wave, then turn to your brother. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you’d have company and Mom ... took off, and I’m ... I’m sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You internally swore. Michael was a decent guy, there was no way he was gonna choose some girl over you. But, at the same time, you didn’t want him to make that choice. It was rare as it was when he found someone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’d just traded spots which Michael when a chorus of roaring of engines drowned you out. In an instant, you were surrounded by four, stripped down motorbike with four very familiar faces. That is, until you spotted a little boy perched on the back of Dwayne’s bike.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David raised his eyebrows. A dangerous aura overcame him—an aura that made you feel small and insignifican. “Where ya going, Star?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She set her jaw. “For a ride. This is Michael”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His gaze jumps to Michael. David sizes him up and smirks, eyes glimmering with mirth. He turns back to Star and says, “Let’s go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wanted nothing more than to bolt, this being your second run in of the evening. Two was far more than enough for one night. And yet, you didn’t want to leave your brother. Sure, he was big and tough and could probably hold his own, but having someone here with him might make him feel more secure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Star</em>,” he says again, impatience seeping into his normally lazy drawl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She made a face, but David wasn’t budging. He stared her down, eyebrows raised, as if daring her to challenge him. Reluctantly, Star leaves Micheal’s side in favor of David, draping her arm languidly over his chest while she climbs on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You thought he might just leave. He seemed so adamant about getting the girl that you honestly thought he’d simply peel out of the parking lot and leave the two of you in the dust. But he didn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know where Hudson’s Bluff is?” David asked, “Overlooking the point?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s confidence falters as he eyes David’s bike. He grimaces. “I can’t beat your bike.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David revs the engine. “You don’t have to beat me, Michael. Just try to keep up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a pause. Michael shifts his attention to you, and then Star, and then the gang. It’s obvious he’s considering it, but still he holds back. He makes a vague gesture towards you. “I’ve got my little sister with me…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can take her,” says Marko. “We don’t mind, do we baby?” He winked at you, snickering as Paul whispers in his ear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David looks at you, giving you that same look he gave Star. An invitation which seemed more like a demand. Again, he asks, “The offer still stands.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something about the lights made his eyes seem different. Hypnotic. For half a moment, you considered it. “I really shouldn’t.” You turn to Michael, keeping your voice soft enough so only he can hear. “Have fun, okay? Don’t worry about me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael grit his teeth. “I’m not just going to leave you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A beat of silence. He purses his lips, “Are you sure?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You weren’t. You were scared shitless at the thought of being left alone on the boardwalk, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You saw the way he gripped his handlebars. He <em>wanted</em> to impress these guys—impress that girl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Though he may be annoying, he was still your brother, and you had not intention of holding him back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So, you said, “I’ll figure something out. Maybe that guy from the video store will know something.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You turn to leave but David catches you. His hold is gentle—barely there. He slips his hand from your wrist, up to your cheek, cradling it. You’re forced to look into his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Last chance.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You open your mouth to tell him no, but the thought of saying <em>yes</em> was tempting. You could picture it, how easy it <em>would</em> be to say <em>yes</em>. You could picture getting onto one of their bikes, feel their leather jackets against your skin. Skin against skin. Hot, deep kisses that left you breathless. Hands trailing over your body, up your sweater, down your skirt. Tongues exploring every inch of your skin. You were so warm. It would be easy to <em>say</em> <em>yes</em>. You wanted to say <em>yes</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael saying your name broke you from your trance. You blinked rapidly, your perverted thoughts going up in smoke. You stepped away and David let his hand drop.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like I said before,” you murmured, “I wouldn’t be much fun. Have a good night. See you later, Mikey.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell your little sister bye-bye, <em>Mikey</em>,” Paul jeered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You can’t make yourself look back lest you change your mind. You trudge forward and don’t feel at ease for a moment, not until the sound of their bikes becomes distant.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By some miracle, you find the video shop. The inside is a brightly colored dream land and behind the counter stands a very tall, broad shouldered man. He’s finishing up with a customer when you come in and smiles brightly at you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello, how may I help you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi—you’re Max, right?” His eyebrows twitch inwards as he nods, still smiling. You tell him your name. “I’m Lucy’s daughter.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lucy’s—<em>of</em> <em>course</em> you are! How may I help you on this lovely evening. Did she forget something.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes and no.” You rub your neck. “My ride just bailed and I need to call her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course!” From beneath the counter he withdrew a sleek, black telephone. “Have at it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You dig through your pockets, withdrawing a neatly-folded piece of paper that had Grandpa’s number. You tuck the phone under your ear and dial. The line rings ... and rings ... and rings. Nothing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You try again, consciously aware of Max watching you as he dealt with customers. The phone continued to ring. No one picked up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Shit</em>. Maybe you wrote the number wrong?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Everything okay?” Max leaned against the counter, concern coloring his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hang up the phone and push it towards him. “Just fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did someone pick up?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” You bit your inner cheek in a poor attempt of keeping panic at bay. “No, uh, they didn’t. Thank you anyway, I’ll figure something out. Maybe hitch a ride or ...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have you ever hitched before?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another strained smile. “There’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max cringed. “No, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. Santa Carla isn’t the wholesome place it used to be and I cannot in good conscience have you go out alone. I’ll drive you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eyes wide, you backpedal. “Oh, no! You can’t, you’re in the middle of work and I just, I can’t.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nonsense. Maria!” He motions over the pretty black cashier. “Can you handle the store for me for a little bit? I've got an errand to run. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not a problem, boss.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max slides out from behind the counter. “See? <em>Not a problem</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t want to get you into any trouble…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max chortles. He lays a hand on the small of your back and guides you out of the store. “My dear, I own the place. Though, if it makes you feel better, I’ll reprimand myself when I get back.”</p>
</div><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Max had a nice car. Like, a really nice car. It had air conditioning that actually worked and a stereo system out of this world—and windows that actually worked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He made light conversation in between you giving directions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Your necklace is pretty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, thank you.” You fiddle with the quartz, feeling it’s weight in your palm. “It used to be my mom’s but I took it from her so often that she eventually let me have it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you like crystals?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess so, yeah. They’re pretty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max hums thoughtfully, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. “What’s your favorite?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Um, well, I like quartz, but I think my favorite is obsidian.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods, “Remind me, which one is that again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A black one. I don’t know why but I’ve always liked it. And Onyx.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s a shop on the boardwalk, somewhere around the theaters I think. I never go down that way, myself, but I have seen the owner during the occasional meeting. Nice woman.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smile. “That’s nice. I’ll have to check it out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe I’ll find mom something, as a thank you for letting me steal her necklace.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max chuckles. You can see why your Mom finds him attractive. “That’s very generous of you. You have a giving heart—just like your mother.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I dunno about that, but thank you. Turn left up here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max made the turn. “How are you liking Santa Carla so far?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay. We used to come up here a lot during the summer, but we haven’t in … almost a decade.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s a wonder we never met until now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s a lot of people in Santa Carla.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That is true.” He reaches down and turns the dial. A new radio station comes on. It’s not a genre you like, but it’s not like you’re listening to it anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To fill the silence, you keep talking. “Honestly, I feel like a bit of an outcast here. Everything is so vibrant and different.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you not like different?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not that I don’t like it as much as it’s a lot to get used to. I’m not really the adventurous type. Mikey and Sammy, they have their moments, but not me. I’m more of a homebody.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s nothing wrong with that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You would be one of the first to think it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max glances at you. “Home is where the heart is, as they say.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The heart is mom. I’m just ... there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A home needs a heart. A mother. That much is true, but a home also needs a good foundation, something to hold it steady and make sure that it doesn’t sink or shift. You strike me as that kind of person, the foundation, if you will.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re glad that it’s dark out because you feel your face heating up. “That’s nice of you to say. I guess I am an exception to the middle kid rule—you know, how they’re supposed to be wild and all that. I guess I tried to be like that once but … Mom’s always been in need of a friend, especially this last year with everything. I guess I tried to become that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max smiles, fondness in his eyes. “I wish my boys had someone like you around. Maybe you could knock some sense into them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You have sons?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh yes. They are,” he pauses, whistling, “They’re a handful. I try the best that I can, I try to give them structure and stability, but there are certain things I am not capable of giving them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sure you do fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They might disagree with you. What they need is something they’ve never had, a mother. A heart. Or, a foundation, for that matter.” At this, he lightly nudges you. “I hope one day they can have it before it’s too late.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smile awkwardly. Words evaded you. The conversation had taken a strange turn.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Max pulls up to your house, the totem poles towering over you menacingly. However, he doesn’t unlock the door.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I do want you to know: I like your mother very much. She’s … She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I know I’ve only known her a few days, and I understand you all are going through a difficult transition…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You cut off his ramblings gently. “She likes you, too, Max.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really?” You nod. Max exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Then … you wouldn’t mind if I asked her on a date?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You seem like a great guy. I think she would love that. It’s up to her to say yes,” you reminded him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course! Thank you—Your consent means more to me than you know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He unlocks the car and you pop open the door. “Thank you again for this. You saved my butt.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Any time. You have a good night!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wave goodbye and open the front door. You managed to bypass both Mom and Sam without raising alarm. Grandpa peeked out from his taxidermy room and acknowledged you with a grunt before returning to his work, not saying a word about Michael's absence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t even remember until much later that you’d stopped giving Max directions halfway home.</p>
</div><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>That night, you dreamed of David and his gang. They flew through your window one by one.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I come with you?” you asked. “Please?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All you had to do was ask.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They lifted you out of bed and the five of soared through the sky. Despite their outward appearance, you weren’t afraid. You found comfort in their company.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where are we going?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning,” one of them joked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They flew you into a secret tree house and laid you down on a bed of moss. Their hands petted your suddenly nude body, pawing at every inch. You were completely bare to them, spread out below. Hands turned into mouths, and tongues licking and sucking on your nipples, your neck, and lower.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Join us, Wendy Bird.” Their voices warped together, whispering one over the other. “Be our Lost Girl.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The pleasure was intense. Their faces blended together, you could never fully see them. Only feel them. You felt as they ground themselves against you. You could hear their laughs, their breath moans. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It all came to an abrupt stop the moment you felt a cockhead press into your lower lips. It was so vivid, so real, that when you woke the next morning you were disappointed to find yourself in bed. <em>Alone</em>. But, most of all, you were disappointed you hadn’t told them yes.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Michael was acting <em>weird</em>. Well, he was always weird, but this was different. He slept all day and woke up with the sunset. Then, he’d on his bike and drive away—presumably to the boardwalk.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom was pretty pissed about him leaving you behind the other night. She’s ranted about it to you the next morning—but ultimately ended the conversation saying she was glad you were safe. She’d wanted to talk with Michael about it but Michael slipped out before she had the chance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The next night, the boys came to the house. They didn’t come inside—no, they tore up the driveway, purposefully being as loud as they possibly could, engines revving up a storm. Mom caught Michael before he went out, encouraging him to invite the boys inside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They might like a nice, home cooked meal,” she said, peeking at them through the curtains.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe next time,” was his reply. There was no next time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You did everything in your power to avoid seeing them whenever they came around. Ever since that dream you felt weird about them. The sound of their bikes coming up drive was enough to make your heart skip a beat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sometimes—and you were reluctant to admit this—but sometimes you placed yourself in an area where you could see them. Where they could see you. It was stupid. You didn’t understand why you did it, those guys were strange, not to mention dangerous. You should’t want anything to do with them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But that didn’t stop you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another odd occurance—though no where near the level of Mikey’s pissy attitude—were the objects that started appearing on your window. Random things. The first one you noticed was a shell. It was beautiful—one of those shells you buy in tourist shops and can’t find on the beach. You assumed a bird had put it there, deciding it’s was unfit for their nest, and you brought it inside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The next day, there was a couple of dandelions. The day after that, a flat stone with a hole wore down in the center. And on and on the little gifts came.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It strange that they kept appearing, but you didn’t put too much thought into it. You were too busy with Michael, his new friends, and his piss-poor attitude.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael was ... easily agitated. Every little thing set him off. His jokes seemed more like petty jabs. At you. At Sam. At Grandpa. At <em>Mom</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stood in the kitchen, helping mom with dinner, when Michael came stomping down the stairs, sunglasses tucked into his white top. His friends would be here any moment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Michael, do you want to take a night off and have a family dinner?” said Mom, “We haven’t eaten together in a while. Might be nice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He snorted. “Yeah, right.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He spun into his heel and stalked to the door. Motorcycles could be heard revving up the drive, the boys shouted almost as clear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom shriveled the tiniest bit. Your nostrils flared. You sat down a little too hard and exuded yourself, storming after him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You caught his arm as he was out the door, pulling him to an abrupt halt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but it doesn’t give you the right to be an ass to mom.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He raised his eyebrows, amused. “But I can to <em>you</em>, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The headlights of four motorcycles pulled into the driveway. Michael tried to go out and join them but you held firm, nails biting into the soft leather of his jacket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why are you acting like this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, unlike you, I’ve got friends waiting for me. So why don’t you run back inside like a good little girl, <em>hm</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears burned the backs of your eyes, but your anger burned brighter. You released him with a push.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, at least I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael frowned. For a moment, it seemed your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to speak.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Michael!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C’mon, Michael!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mikey boy!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Engines revved. He looked back at them, all traces of regret gone. He jogged down the stairs, heading for his bike. You rolled your eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, baby!” Paul shouted, “Don’t you wanna come party with us?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a chorus of laughter and more engines revving. You flipped them all off as you headed back inside. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tossed the phone onto Michael’s chest. He jolted awake with a groan.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... <em>What the hell </em>...?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mom’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael opened his eyes a crack and winced. “What time is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Two o’clock. You slept all day.” <em>Again</em>, you refrain from saying. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael motions for the sunglasses on the table. “Hand me those, will you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You scoff and throw them at him, too. “You need your sunglasses to talk on the phone? What are you, burned?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael is quick to flip you off, murmuring a quiet <em>bite</em> <em>me</em>, before he picks up the phone. “Hi, mom…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You can faintly hear her voice. “<em>Michael, are you still in bed?</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I’m up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Michael, will you do me a favor this evening? Will you stay home with Sam tonight? I’m meeting Max for dinner</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”I watch him all day, Mom,” he says, unsympathetically. “The only time I have for myself is the evening.” He tilts his head, looking at you. He says your name, “Can’t you have her watch him? She stays at home all day anyway.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>I want you to do this. You come home late, you sleep all day—Sammy’s always alone</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, he’s not, he has—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Michael, please! You do exactly what you want … tonight, I want to do what I want for a change. Do you know how long it’s been since someone has asked me out to dinner?</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a pause.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Please?</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael presses his lips in a thin line. “Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hangs up and groans, rubbing his eyes. You <em>tsk</em>, pushing off the desk.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess it sucks to be you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He flips you the bird.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Grandpa strolled into the kitchen wearing a khaki colored jacket and a loud bow tie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look at you, Gramps!” you coo. You bump him with your hip lightly. “Lookin’ all spiffy! What’s the occasion.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can’t an old fart like me dress up for fun?” He adjusted his bow tie with one hand, smiling. “Anything in here that might pass for aftershave?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pop a grape in your mouth and grin. “I have some roll on lavender oil.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nah—too flowery. Anything else?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sammy hops up from his chair and plucks a bottle off the windowsill. “How about this Windex, Grandpa?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes widened, “Ah!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He accepts the bottle and squirts some into his hands, patting it onto his cheeks. Sam exchanges a look with you and you make a face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thanks!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael enters the kitchen, still wearing his stupid sunglasses. He stalks past Grandpa, appraising him.  “Big date, Grandpa?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waggled his eyebrows, smiling slyly. “Just dropping off some of my handiwork to the ‘Widow’ Johnson.” He holds up a stuffed dog, beady eyes staring you down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shudder. Taxidermy was certainly not the way to your heart, but if this woman liked it … well, who were you to shame her?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pat him on the back, “Good for you, Grandpa.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael peers over the rim of his sunglasses, eyes fluttering with mirth. “Oh yeah? What did you stuff for her, <em>Mr. Johnson</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Grandpa’s smile falters, then faded away all together. He gripped the stuffed dog a little tighter. “I’ll see you kids later.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As soon as he’s out of sight, you wack Michael on the back of the head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Hey</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam scowls. “That wasn’t funny, Michael.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Grandpa honks his horn, which blares an off key version of <em>La Cucaracha</em>. Sam resumes his earlier task of dinner duty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m making you a sandwich,” he grumbles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t bother.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You glance at Michael’s ear. There’s a dangly chain that wasn’t there the night before. You wrinkle your nose. “Lose the earring, Mikey, it’s not happening.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He crosses his arms, “Piss off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam’s eyebrows shoot way up. “Wow—you have such a great personality, Michael! You should open your own charm school.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael was poised and ready for another ripping retort when the house began to shake. A harsh, howling wind ripped through the windows, sending the curtains flapping as if it were a hurricane outside. The sound of loud, revving engines fills the house. Headlights burn through the windows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You gripped the table but it was no use. Dishes and cutlery were sent shattering onto the floor, breaking into hundreds of pieces.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the hell is going on?!” You could hardly hear your own voice over the noise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From outside, you can hear their voices. Shouting. Clamoring over one another. <em>Michael</em>. <em>Michael</em>. <em>Michael</em>. The noise steadily grows louder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael rushes to the front door, Sam close behind. “Don’t open it!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Michael</em>! <em>Michael</em>! <em>Michael</em>!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He threw the front door open and … it stops. Everything stops. All that remains is the faintest of breezes, the rustling trees, and the jingling wind chimes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You grip Sam’s hand, grounding yourself. There’s no one outside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You look at Sam and he looks at you, equally panicked. “That was real, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You know he’s right—but as you peer into the night, you can’t help but doubt yourself. Maybe it was some kind of shared hallucination? But, there were pictures on the floor, knocked off by the raucous. Earthquake? That didn’t make sense either, but it was more acceptable than the other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael shuts the door and locks it. Even he is shaken up. You clench your jaw and stomp forward, poking his chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look—I don’t know what kind of game you and your friends are trying to play, but it’s not funny.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A beat of silence. Offended, Michael states, “I didn’t do this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, <em>bite me</em>.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You push past him and throw open the door. The night is still and calm, but you are not at ease. You know what you saw—and the four idiots in town who would do it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your brothers call after you, but it’s Sammy who asks, “Where are you going?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Out</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You cross the yard to the open garage. It’s dark and musty, filled with old junk. You momentarily eye Grandpa’s car but decide against it. Impulsively, you pull an old bicycle off of the wall and take off into the night.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your anger leads you to the boardwalk. More specifically, to David and his gang. You’re storming towards them before you can truly think it through. All you know is that you’re beyond outraged, at Michael, at them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul is the first one to notice you. He greets you with a cocky grin, “Hey baby—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your fist is flying on its own accord. You punch him clear across the face. It wasn’t hard—odds are, he’s taken harder before—but the surprise of it knocks him back into Dwayne. You only realize what you’ve done when the pain spreads through your fingers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Sunova</em>—” You cradle your hand against your chest, biting back a scream. You wished someone would’ve warned you. Punching <em>hurt</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is it with you Emerson’s and punching without provocation?” remarks David.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You glare, filling it with as much hate as you can muster. He isn’t affected in the least. Amusement dances in his eyes, like he’s watching a puppy snarl at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let me see your hand. You hurt it pretty bad.” David reaches out to take your hand into his but you jerk away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t <em>touch</em> me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys <em>ooo</em>. Marko throws his arm over your shoulder, nuzzling your hair. “Baby’s got some teeth, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You try to shrug him off but he hangs on. “Stay away from Michael.” They say his name throughout the group, like it’s some kind of private joke. You set your jaw. “He’s a good guy and he doesn’t deserve to be dragged down by a group of dirty degenerates like you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David bends at the waist, coming down to your eye level. “Did big brother send you here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stand a little taller, clenching and unclenching your injured fist. “No, I came myself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So you can go down on dirty degenerates like us?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“To get you to <em>fuck</em> <em>off</em>.” You sneer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The reaction is instant.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, shit.” Marko bounces up and down excitedly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Such a filthy mouth.” David tuts, circling you. “Good girls aren’t supposed to use dirty words like that, are they Dwayne?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No way.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thought so.” David eyes you, then straightens. “I think you better apologize to Paul, baby. You hurt him real bad, and, well, he can get a bit pouty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You glance at Paul who is pouting theatrically. “Can you kiss it better?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sneer. “Look—just leave Michael alone. He hasn’t been acting like himself and I <em>know</em> you’re the cause. Just leave him alone. Okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David’s lips quirk upwards. “Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A pause. You blink once. Twice. You wait for the punchline but it never comes.  “Really?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anything for you, baby.” David shares a look with his gang. “But you’ve gotta take his place.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Excuse me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David doesn’t repeat himself. He gives you a look, similar to the one he gave you almost a week ago. Blue eyes peered into your soul, effectively freezing you. Paul leaned against your other shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C’mon,” he purred. “Join us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then, a steady chant started up. “<em>Join us. Join us. Join us</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David only stares, hypnotic blue eyes locked on yours, as Marko, Paul, and Dwayne’s chant grew louder. People were starting to stare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know you want to,” he stated. “Don’t lie to yourself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko giggled, “We promise we’ll be good.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne, who you hadn’t seen move, came to your opposite ear. “Extra good.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t leave us hanging, baby,” whined Paul.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your rage evaporated by the second, replaced with a warm and fuzzy feeling in your abdomen. They were all so close. You could smell their cologne, it filled your senses to the brim. The feeling of leather on skin is overstimulating, overwhelming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They’re petting you—your arms, your hands, your neck. David seemed content watching. Someone’s hands migrated to your hair, playing with the ends. Cool breath fans over your neck, combating the sticky heat of the Santa Carla night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David cocks his head. And there it is, his inviting hand. Open. Ready. Accepting. Your fingers twitched; and, ever so slowly, you found yourself reaching out and putting your hand in his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys erupted into cheers and the hazy bubble of warmth bursts like a firework. An explosion of euphoria. Dwayne wrapped his arms around your middle and spun you around, eliciting a surprised shriek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C’mon, boys.” David tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “Let’s get out of here.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey guys! this chapter contains dub-con and recreational drug use. if this makes you uncomfortable then please don't read.</p><p>also! if you want quicker updates you can check out my tumblr, darling-disastrous. i post there first and transfer onto ao3 later</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>They’d parked their bikes illegally at the base of the boardwalk, earning some nasty glares from passerbyers. Marko and Paul has you sandwiched inbetween them, laughing jovially, but their grip on your hands made it clear they weren’t letting you go any time soon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They each hopped onto their respective bike—Paul being more reluctant to release you than Marko. You force him to let go when he slings his leg over the seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The idea of getting on one of their death machines unappealing. You’d ridden with Michael on his bike back in Phoenix, but that memory didn’t end well. It had been one of his first crashes, ending with a broken arm for him and a broken leg for you. Never again, you decided.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yet, you were now confronted with the fact that none of the boys had an actual car—or sidecar. Or a <em>helmet</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hop on,” says David.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You eyed them carefully. They all had a reckless, shit-eating grin plastered on their faces so your option was limited. After careful consideration, you decided Dwayne was the safest option. You saddled upbeside him and he offered you his hand, helping you situate yourself on the back of his bike.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tossed a catty grin at Paul, “Told you.” Paul flips him the bird. Dwayne turns his head, addressing you. “Hold on tight.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lightly clutch the soft leather of his jacket. “Just—go slow, please?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys snicker. You instantly regret saying anything, fearing you have made an already reckless drive even more dangerous.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David peels out first, and then the motorcycle moved. It was much faster than you had anticipated and you squeaked, clutching Dwayne’s middle for dear life. You might’ve grabbed his shirt had he been wearing one. Instead, your hand was met with smooth skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys rode fast—Dwayne was not an exception. Though he might’ve been the least rowdy of the group, his driving was only slightly less reckless. Stress on the word slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They tore down the stairs that lead onto the beach, their wheels kicking up a storm of sand. You buried your face against Dwayne’s back, squeezing your eyes shut. People around you were shouting. You could only imagine what they were doing and, honestly, you were happy you couldn’t see. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then, the bike was airborne. You screamed, squeezing against Dwayne so tight you were surprised he could still breathe. Your thighs hugged his hips, knees pressed tight against the chrom of the car.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fortunately, you weren’t thrown from the bike. It jolted hard as it landed, knocking the air out of you, but it didn’t fall on its side or flip over. Dwayne had perfect control of the vehicle, keeping it upright with little more than a little swerve.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You opened your eyes a crack and met Marko’s eyes. He was laughing without abandon, nodding to Dwayne. Over the wind, the brunet called to you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You couldn’t manage a reply, mouth dry and tongue heavy. You press yourself even closer to his back, thighs squeezing his when you go down a particularly sharp dip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The bikes pulled through a wooded area before coming to a halt near a cliff side. The ground was sun-bleached and rocky. The sea roared loudly, splashing the rocks with a fury.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your ears were partially deaf from the wind. Your legs might as well’ve been jelly. Dwayne helped you off of the bike, offering an arm for you to steady yourself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I could carry you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” You shake your head. “I’m fine. I just—I need a moment to catch my breath.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne shifts, dark eyes appraising you. “Never been on a bike before?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never had a good experience with one.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Until now,” interjected David.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He jerked his head at the two of you to follow. Though you were nowhere near ready to walk, you did, using Dwayne as a crutch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Along the cliff side was a set of rickety wooden stairs that had seen better days. Each step was met with a groan, the wood bowing under the slightest pressure. Though it was dark, you could clearly read the large, metal signs posted ever few feet. DANGER, they read, KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE FINED. Et cetera, et cetera.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stall at the base of the stairs, taking in the craggy rock and sheer drop from above. The tide was high, the water lapped at the nearby rocks but didn’t surge any further than that. “Are you sure we should be going down here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Marko, are you sure we should be going down here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Pretty sure,” said Marko. “Whaddoya say, Paul?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think we should be down here.” Paul hopped atop a shaky ledge of rock, balancing on one foot. “Dwayne?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Definitely.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“See, baby,” David tossed you a look, “Everyone wants to come down but you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, I only said—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But none of them were listening. They had begun to trudge on towards the gaping mouth of the cave. Only Dwayne lingered, taking slow measured steps, to ensure you wouldn’t be left behind. You huffed, nostrils flairing, and started after them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The scent of stale sea water and mold filled your lungs. The cave was dark at first, until the first vestiges of light through another opening, light dancing over the rocks. It seemed that’s where you were going because the boys leaped through the hole,  Dwayne helping you down the steep steps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You took in the cave—which wasn’t really a cave. It had been something once before. Something big and beautiful. It was still beautiful but in a more … <em>decrepit</em> way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Most of the hall had been graffitied in bright blue, yellow, and red paints. A stack of surf boards leaned off to the side. A chandelier, strung with jewels and sea shells, sat in the middle of an old, overgrown fountain. There were several openings in the walls that lead deeper into the cave. Towards the back, a small section of the cave had been cordoned off by thin gauzy curtains.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What <em>is</em> this place?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David took Dwayne’s place beside you, and slung an arm over your shoulders. “This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla back about eighty years ago.” He drew you in close, whispering the next part in your ear. “Too bad they built it right on top of the San Andreas fault.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You swallow hard, ignoring the shudder that threatened to rack your spine. “It sank?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David hummed. “Back in 1906. The ground opened up and this place took a header into the crack.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul hopped down from the fountain, landing in front of you. “You wouldn’t believe all the cool stuff we’ve found in here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can imagine.” David leads you around the fountain and you admire the room a little more. They certainly made a home out of it. It would’ve taken years to drag all this stuff in here, and the boys couldn’t be much older than you. “Where are you guys from?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right here,” says Paul.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I mean, where do you live.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Right</em> <em>here</em>,” says Dwayne. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You paused, looking at all the boys. They were serious. “Your folks let you live here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul glances up from the joint he’s rolling, “Is she talking about parents?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne snorted, “What are those?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A collective chuckled ripple through them. You sense you’ve made some kind of blunder and open your mouth to apologise, but David beats you to it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We do what we want. No rules. No <em>parents</em>. We are the masters of our fates—we have complete and utter freedom.” His voice drops an octave, deep and seductive. He touches your chin. “Nothing holding us back from what we want.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The air is too thick. David has you pinned with that hypnotic gaze of his, your muscles stiff and unwilling to move. You want to yield to him; however, you manage to pry your eyes away from his and take a step back. The others are staring. It’s weird and awkward, you shy away from it, turning your attention elsewhere and find ... <em>Star</em>. And that little boy. Star turns away, tugging her gauzy curtains closed, effectively blocking the two of them from view.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>What was she doing here? </em>When you first met her, you thought maybe she was David’s girlfriend, but after the way he was treating you ... and the fact that none of them had acknowledged her presence ... You didn’t know, but it didn’t stop a small seed of jealousy from sprouting in your chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You return your attention to the topic at hand. “That sounds lonely.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe to some.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You frown. For a moment, you feel pity for them. They must be runaways. Kids who thought that no one loved them, or maybe they had no one in the first place. Who knows if their situation actually improved. You know Mom always said running away was one of the best things that happened to her, but you didn’t know you could believe that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake the thought away and face all four of them. “So … why did you bring me here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where else would we take you?” Paul hops down from the fountain’s ledge, smirking.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You all end up migrating to the megar sitting area, landing on a beat up couch with Marko and Dwayne sandwiching you while David takes a seat in an ancient wheelchair. They’d turned on the radio to some popular rock station, the music filling the quiet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Star,” he calls out. You look up to find both Star and the little boy creeping out of their hiding place. Star seems affronted by the fact David was talking to her. “You take Laddie out to eat or something. Have fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Star frowns, but David’s tone leaves no room for questioning. She tightens her hold on the little boy, Laddie, and leads him out of the cave without another word.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul comes up behind you, blunt in hand. “Want an herbal refreshment, babe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You offer a small smile. “No thanks—weed makes me sick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Besides, the idea of you being in an inhibited state surrounded by <em>literal</em> <em>strangers</em> was not the best idea. You had no intention of tempting fate tonight. It was bad enough you came here <em>with</em> them, <em>without</em> telling your brothers or mom where you were going. (And honestly, you were still trying to wrap your mind around why you did. But you were here now so the only thing left to do was hold your own until one of them decided to drive you home.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul passes the blunt off to David. Each boy takes a hit, though when it comes around to Marko, he speaks. “You don’t have to take a big hit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lightly push his hand away. “Really, I—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul knelt in front of you, resting his chin on your exposed knee. It’s so startling you nearly kick him out of reflex.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have you ever heard of shotgunning?” he asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul jerks his head to Marko, a silent request to pass the blunt. He took a particularly long drag, and you watched with slight curiously. Dwayne draped his arm over your shoulder, reaching around to tap your cheek. “Open your mouth and inhale,” he whispered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You did, hesitantly. Paul sat up on his knees, his nose inches from your own, and he blew the smoke into your mouth. You pulled away fast, doubling over as you coughed. The boys snickered, Dwayne and Marko high fiving.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul took another hit and exhaled through his nose. “Don’t sweat it, babe, it takes practice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the coughing ceased, you straightened yourself out and glared. “You could’ve <em>warned</em> me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s the kinda think you’ve gotta experience to understand.” Marko ruffled your hair, turning your chin. “You wanna try again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You meant to say <em>no</em>. You knew that’s what you wanted to say, but what came out of your mouth was, “Sure.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko took a hit and coaxed you to open your mouth. You inhaled again, like Dwayne instructed, and Marko blew a steady stream of smoke into your mouth. It was just as bad as the first time, ending with you coughing up a lung, but at least you knew what to expect.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The three boys continued to do this for a while, each taking turns ‘shotgunning’ until you eventually stopped coughing as much and had a steady buzz. Not enough for you to be concerned. Oh no, by all accounts you were still in possession of all of your faculties, just ... <em>looser</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You relaxed into the couch cushions, staring up at the graffitied ceiling. <em>How did that get up there?</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David hadn’t spoken in a while but you knew he was still there, watching the action take place.  “Marko.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gestured for the boy to come close and—reluctantly—he did. Paul immediately took his place, pulling your legs onto his lap. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko nodded and disappeared. When he came back he was carrying a jewel encrusted bottle and a stack of colorful paper cups. He passed the bottle to David and laid out five of the cups in a line.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David uncorked the bottle and brought the mouth of it to his nose, inhaling deeply. You hardly registered any of this, too preoccupied with the feeling of Dwayne’s fingers massaging your scalp. You could’ve easily fallen asleep like that, had it not been for Marko passing you a paper cup.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You peered down at the red, viscous liquid, frowning. “What’s this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your question was either unheard or ignored because each of the boys was busy tossing back their drink, gulping it down eagerly. They eached finished, one right after the other, each with a totally blissed out look on their faces.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David was the first to be somewhat recovered. He nodded to the cup in your hand, “Drink it. I guarantee you’ll enjoy it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You brought the cup to your nose, taking a whiff. It didn’t smell like alcohol—didn’t smell like anything you recognized. Tentatively, you tipped the cup back, allowing the smallest of drops to touch your tongue. It was … <em>good</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You swallowed the contents in one gulp. A small drop of it trickling down the corner of your mouth. When you finished you felt … <em>light</em>. Not high or drunk, but something in between. Like you were floating, like your body was no longer yours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A shaky breath escaped you. Paul kissed the side of your head. “Atta girl.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David gave you a smile, “Welcome to the club.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The blissed out feeling didn’t dim. You laid sprawled out between Dwayne's legs, head resting below his chin. Paul occupied the opposite end of the couch, hands running up and down your exposed legs, occasionally toying with the hem of your shorts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s <em>cold</em> inside the cave. A part of you wished you had worn one of your longer skirts, but to be fair, you hadn’t anticipated ending up here. But the cold didn’t bother you too much. In fact, the mix of weed and the alcohol kept you nice and warm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s funny,” you giggle, the words pouring out without filter. “How scared I was of you at first. You guys aren’t scary.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko hopped over the edge of the couch and coping a squat on the floor. “Oh yeah? You’re not scared now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmm, not any more … You guys are too … <em>too</em> sexy.” You slap your hand over your mouth to contain your laughter. It’s <em>funny</em>—funny because you’d never tell them something like this otherwise. Funny because their expressions changed easily. “Sexy and … and <em>sexy</em>. And I like it when you call me baby, it makes me feel all hot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, you like it baby?” Paul’s face split into a shit-rating grin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh-huh—I like the way you say it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How do I say it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You do your best impression, but it falls short. However, the boys are thoroughly amused and laugh their asses off. Paul half-crawls over you. “I thought you hated us, <em>baby</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No!” You rolled your eyes. <em>Silly boys</em>. “No—you’re annoying but only cause you’re so <em>sexy</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did’ja hear that, David,” shouts Marko. “Apparently we’re annoyingly sexy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul’s stroking became more deliberate, using his nails to drag your flesh lightly. Your skin erupted into goosebumps. It was a strange mixture of tickling and pleasure. His stroking migrates to your thighs and <em>between</em> <em>your</em> <em>legs</em>. A brief brush across your mound but nothing more. Nothing <em>substantial</em>. It’s enough to make you whine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne joined in, too, his left arm slipping under your shirt to access your stomach. His thumb traced swirling patterns into your skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell me, baby,” said Paul. “Have you ever been touched like this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hum, allowing your head to fall back against Dwayne’s chest. “I used to date back in Phoenix ... Only one ever got this far.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh?” Marko’s eyes flashed to yours. “And here we thought you were a good girl. Aren’t you good girls supposed to wait until marriage and shit?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never got far,” you mumbled. It was taking all the strength you had to speak coherently. Every sensation was heightened, their touch a little too good. “Just a lot of heavy petting …. ‘n kissin’ ….”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Too afraid to make the leap?” Paul grins, tongue between teeth. His attentions were now solely focused on your mound but <em>not</em> where you needed him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never … Never felt right.” You strained against him, hoping he’d take the hint. Dwayne cupped your breast. “Never felt anything when we kissed … Never felt anything at all … Figured I wasn’t ready or they weren’t the right one so I broke it off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko pushes your shirt up around your neck, revealing your chest to the room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have you ever had someone really kiss you, babe?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As soon as the words left Paul’s mouth, Marko laid a few chaste kisses on your stomach, a kitten lick <em>here</em>, a nip <em>there</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everything was hazy. Everything was hot. You needed ... something. You needed someone to relieve this pressure, or you might die. A soft moan escaped when Paul grazed your sensitive nub.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He asked you a question,” murmured Dwayne.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You licked your lips, mouth dry. “I, um … shit, I dunno. Please—!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko captures your lips in a cool, sensual kiss. It’s not fast paced and you hadn’t expected it. The spark flared in your tummy, your face heating up quickly. As you reached for him, Marko pulled away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You might’ve whined but the instant it was over, Paul captured your chin and guided you to meet his mouth. The spark turned into a small flame. He cupped your mound, meat palm of his palm pressing directly on your bundle of nerves. His kiss left you breathless. It was demanding—Paul caged you in, pinning you against Dwayne, leaving you no room to escape or even breathe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another hand on your face. Dwayne pried you away from Paul, and you were hardly able to catch your breath before he kissed you. His tongue swept across the seam of your lips and you jumped, but didn’t back away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone was unzipping your shorts. Three hands on your lower body, two holding your hips, one playing with the little bow on your panties. Slow, maddening circles, too high for you to feel any pleasure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good girl,” someone whispers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your breath hitched. You think you may pass out. Dwayne finally breaks the kiss, but you’re swept into another one by Marko. You’d honestly never felt like this before, not with anyone. Only in your fantasies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey.” It was David’s voice. You tried to look up but Marko wouldn’t let you, and you didn’t fight him too hard. “We should move this somewhere else. We’ve got company.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Off in the distance you could’ve sworn you heard another bike, but that thought soon left your mind as Paul hoisted you up, securing your legs around his waist. His erection pressed against you, hard and thick. You shuddered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re not sure where you ended up. Everything moved quickly. One moment you were in the darkness, the next you were on a mattress, candles casting elongated shadows up the cave walls. Not once did they stop touching you. At any given time you had at least one set of hands on you, pinching and groping any available skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With the utmost care, Dwayne removed your glasses and sat them off to the side. “Don’t wanna mess these up, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I dunno,” said Marko. “If she kept them on she could be a <em>sexy</em> <em>librarian</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul and Dwayne high five, but the glasses stay off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul attached his lips to your thigh, sucking on the supple skin. You arched off of the bed as Dwayne slips your shirt off. Paul all but shredded your jean shorts, tearing them viciously off of your body. You gasped, muttering something about being gentle, but the words were slurred and you couldn’t think straight. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Please</em>,” you begged.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Whaddoya want, baby?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You didn’t know. “<em>Please</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They snickered. Marko asks, “Do you think we broke her?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A hand slides under your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin. You hiss, arching into the sensation. A gloved hand drew your face up and you barely had time to register it was David before he kissed you, deep and demanding. He didn’t wait for you to be ready before he slipped his tongue in your mouth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Spread ‘em,” ordered Paul. He lightly slaps your inner thigh. You’ve barely had time to move an inch when he throws one leg over his shoulder and nuzzles your still-clothed core. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your moan was swallowed by David’s mouth. Cold finger run across your bra, exposing your breasts to the room. Dwayne rolls your nipples between his calloused fingers. You’d never considered your breasts a sensitive place before now. You could’ve cum just from his ministrations alone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David pulled back as Paul licked a board strip along the crotch of your panties.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You gasp, grabbing a fistful of the sheets. “<em>F</em> … <em>Fuck</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Blindly, you reach for his hair and tug on the strands. Paul moans, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko took David’s place, kissing you ravenously. From across the room, David spoke. “Now, what did we say about that kind of language?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Someone’s being naughty,” Marko said through the kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“‘<em>M sorry—</em>Please...! I need you!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko growls, “Tell us what you need, baby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, touch me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We <em>are</em> touching you,” said Dwayne.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“More!” You’re so frustrated you feel tears building up. “More—please! Anything!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul slipped off your underwear, his cool breath fanning across your core. He dove in without hesitation, mouth covering your mound as he licked and teased your slit. You cry out, arching off the bed, but Paul held your hips down with a forceful push.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne’s pinching became more of an aggressive massage. You’re too hot. Everything’s too much or not enough. You’re teetering on the edge of a precipice, so close yet so far. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko trailed his kisses down your cheek to your jaw to your neck. He licked and sucked on your pulsepoint, enough that you’re certain there would be a mark the next morning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You opened your eyes a sliver and saw David sitting a little ways away in a chair. His legs were spread, an obvious bulge straining against his pants. He wasn’t touching it, though. He rested his chin on his hand, his elbow balanced on one knee.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tilted his head, taking you in fully. You were sure you were quite the sight. Sprawled out with three boys groping every inch of you that they could reach.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Use your fingers, Paul,” he instructs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul pulled off of you with a pop. He spread your lips with his fingers, completely exposing you. “Look at this pretty pussy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pushed his middle finger inside, pumping it in and out of you with sloppy thrusts. His finger was longer than yours, reaching spots that you never could reached on your own. He curled his finger slightly, stroking your pulp walls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You ever finger yourself before, baby? So tight.” He slipped a second finger inside, scissoring it back and forth. “C’mon, tell me. It’s just us and we wanna know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes,” you moan.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah? How do you do it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Only one finger—<em>fuck</em>—only one and, and never as deep as you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Poor baby, no wonder you’re so uptight, it’s because you never properly got off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko parted from your neck long enough to say, “Makes sense.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You were nearing your end. The coil in your gut wound tighter and tighter until you were about to break. David, suddenly, was by your side. He pressed something to your open mouth and thick, warm liquid trickled down your throat. It had to have been the same stuff from earlier, because the moment it hit your tastebuds, you were filled with euphoria.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was enough to send you spiraling over the edge. You clamped around Paul’s fingers, hips convulsing as you came.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David pulled away and you <em>whined</em>. You needed more. Craning your neck, you reached as far as you could, but David was rigid in his convictions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko released his suction on your neck and came to take David’s place. “Open up, babe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You did, lips forming an ‘o’, and Marko pressed something to your lips. The room was too dark and your vision too blurry to see what it was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>More liquid poured in. It tasted different than what David gave you, but in a way you could not explain. It was still addictive and you lapped it up greedily, eyes rolling back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You parted for a moment, only for Dwayne to follow suit with the others and feed you <em>more</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It didn’t matter what it was anymore, you were too far gone to care. All you knew was that you needed more—more of the drink, more of the boys.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And they were content with giving you just that.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Michael stumbles up the drive, head hazy from the morning sun. It was as if the sun’s rays zapped any remaining strength he had. His bed was calling him for a nice, <em>long</em> nap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And he would’ve been able to just that—had his path not been blocked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There, in the screened in porch, sat Mom. She’d set herself up in one of those old wicker chairs with a blanket thrown over her lap and tea in hand. She’d been waiting for him—for a while.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hadn’t expected her to be home, she’s usually at the video store by this time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello, Michael.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled at him. It set him on edge. “How was your night out?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hums, fingers drumming against the ceramic mug. “And your sister?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shifts his weight. “What about her?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, where is she?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She was pissed last night and stormed out.” Thankfully, you missed the drama that ensued. He’s not sure how to explain what happened but he’s sure you would’ve taken Sammy’s side in all this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom’s smile falters. “She isn’t with you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No—” Michael fights a yawn, “Isn’t she inside?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I haven’t seen her all night. I assumed she slept through the fiasco last night, but this morning when I went to check, she wasn’t there. Sammy said she went out last night, and I assume since you snuck off as well,” she said pointedly, “you knew where to find her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I haven’t seen her all night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Exasperated, Mom huffs, “Well, where could she possibly be, Michael? It’s not like she’s made any friends.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You woke in darkness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sat up slowly, allowing your eyes to adjust. The blanket slid down your naked torso, pooling at your waist. Memories of last night flashed before your eyes. All four of them. You’d been with all four of them. Dread filled you entirely. It’s a wonder you’re still here, that they hadn’t thrown you out the moment they got what they wanted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Most of the memories were hazy. You didn’t think any of them fucked you, and you’re sure you would be able to tell if they had. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You buried your face in your hands, groaning. Oh, what a mess. You’re not sure you have the strength to face them. You were mental last night. The moon, you decided, was responsible for your out-of-character actions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not wanting to stick around, you scoured the room for your clothes and threw them on. You found your glasses tucked away on the nightstand. Unfortunately for you, by the time you breached the main cave, the boys had all gathered. All conversation stopped the moment you walked in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Evening,” said Marko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Shit</em>. You ducked your head, easing your way down the rocky steps. “What time is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nine thirty-ish, give or take,” said Paul. “Just in time for the sunset.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stop short, and for a moment you swear you’re about to have a heart attack. “<em>Nine</em> <em>thirty</em>?! In the evening?” They nod. “I slept <em>all</em> <em>day</em>?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul popped his head up from where he laid on the floor. “To be fair, you were <em>pretty</em> <em>busy</em> last night night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bile crawls up your throat. The world swirls around you as you stagger for the exit. You’d been gone <em>all</em> <em>night</em> and <em>all</em> <em>day</em>. Your mom was probably worried sick! Oh, God, how were you going to explain this?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve gotta go!” you blurt out, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get home—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David appeared out of no where, steadying you. “There’s no rush.” He rested his hands on your shoulders and steers you towards the couch. “You’ve already been gone this long. You don’t want to walk back home at night, it’s dangerous.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Calm down, baby,” said Paul.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David threw his arm over your shoulder and held you close. “You can always show up tomorrow. Besides, aren’t you the responsible one in your family?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, and that’s why I <em>have</em> to <em>go</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But it also means you never cut loose. C’mon—when was the last time you actually did something for yourself?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He raised his eyebrows, driving home his point and you ... can’t say anything to the contrary. He’s right. The last time you’d really let loose was back in Phoenix, and that was years ago.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And the boys ... they wanted you to stay.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They weren’t like the assholes your friends had gone with, who kicked them out the moment they got what they wanted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maybe it was the romantic in you, or maybe you were still on whatever they’d given you last night, but you wanted to believe that they actually liked you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Slowly, you spoke, “<em>Maybe</em> … Maybe a little while longer? Like you said, I’ve already been gone this long…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your words were met with cheers. Paul slapped Marko on the arm, but Marko pulled him into a headlock.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David kissed your temple. “Atta girl.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne skates up beside you then abandons his board in favor of sitting down. You flash him a smile. He leans to the side, reaching into his coat pocket, and withdraws a bracelet with an onyx crystal wrapped in the center. He offers it to you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyes light up. “Is this for me?” He nods and takes your hand so he can tied it around your wrist for you. “Thank you—it’s beautiful.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A silent <em>how did you know...? </em>hung in the air. The smallest of smiles cross his lips. His hand briefly ghosted over the crystal necklace you wore before hopping up and returning to his skating.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The moment he’s gone, David takes a seat in the ancient wheelchair across from you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Drink?” David pushes a small paper cup toward you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You accept, noting it’s the same drink he offered you the night before, and down it in one go. An instant euphoria overtakes you, sparking a pleasant buzz in your abdomen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You melt against the couch, eyes half-lidded. “What <em>is</em> that stuff, anyway?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David purses his lips. “Blood.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A beat of silence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You giggle. “Fine, don’t tell me. But it’s good, whatever it is. Can’t even taste the alcohol in it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s because there isn’t any.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You burst into another fit of giggles. “Whatever, man. <em>Oh</em>, <em>shit</em>, has anyone seen my glasses?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re wearing them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You touch your face and find that they were, in fact, on your face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul hopped over the fountain, blunt in hand. “You know what I wanna know?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Whaddo you wanna know, Paul?” echos Marko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why this fuckin’ sexy babe dresses like a grandma half the time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He collapsed beside of you, blunt between his lips. He motions you to come closer, and you opened your mouth instinctively, allowing him to blow the smoke inside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a lot easier with practice, just like they said.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You relaxed against his arm, inhaling deeply. “I happen to like my clothes, thank you very much.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like <em>these</em> clothes.” Paul pinches your ripped shorts between his fingers before resting his hand against your inner thigh. “I think they’re sexy. I mean, until yesterday, I’d never seen your legs.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne snickers. “You got to see <em>a</em> <em>lot</em> more than her legs.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul licked his lips, “Hell yeah, I did.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You might’ve been more embarrassed if you weren’t feeling the effects of whatever drink David had given you. “Shut up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Make me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He leaned forward, shit-eating grin spread across his lips, and planted a kiss. It became hot and heavy fast, only to be interrupted by David when he laid a leather hand on your shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s presence was enough to make Paul back off. He pouted, but didn’t say anything in protest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Boys,” says David, “go get a bite to eat.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They comply instantly, but not before giving you a little kiss. Your face is on fire by the time they’re gone. David helps you up, taking you into his arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Follow me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He lightly wrapped his hand around your wrist and guided you out of the main den and back into the room you’d slept in. There were no candles this time, nothing to illuminate his features. Only the darkness.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your breathing hitched as he turned, sensing more than seeing, and drew you in to a hungry kiss. You let out a soft moan, sliding your hands up and over his woolen overcoat and around his neck. David pushes you back—not hard, but enough for you to stumble over your feet and land on your mattress.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David admired you from above before kneeling onto the ancient mattress, caging you in with his arms. Your heart skipped a beat, eyes flickering between his hypnotic blues and his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” David pinned your hips with his, straddling your waist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Every minute,” you breathe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good girl.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His now bare hands skimmed along your shirt and eased you out of it. “You made it difficult to control ourselves, do you know that? If I hadn’t warned them, and we hadn’t known you were a virgin, you would’ve been looking at a very different evening.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your breath catches, imagines of what could’ve been flitting through your mind. You lick your lips. “I would’ve liked it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Would you, now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like anything you do to me, David.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His lips curved into a cruel smile. “Don’t tempt me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He fondled your breasts through your bra and brought you into another searing kiss. His hard-on ground against your stomach. He was big. Even through his jeans, you could feel how heavy and thick he would be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You slipped your hand in between your bodies, fingers ghosting over his erection. David hissed and pulled away enough for you to hear him speak.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t care if it’s your first time, I’ll tie you up if you touch me without my permission again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, <em>sir</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was supposed to be a joke—the alcohol, or whatever it was, making you more brazen than usual. However, his expression hardened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David surged forward. This kiss was more demanding and hungry. Like he was trying to devour you whole. He all but tore off your shorts with an audible rip, tossing them into the corner. He stroked you through your panties—two knuckles pressed flat against your lips, coaxing your arousal.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You whimper. “<em>Please—</em>don’t tease ... I need you—I can’t stand it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David shoved down his jeans far enough to free his erection. It smacked your belly, just as thick and heavy as you anticipated. You wanted to touch it, but David’s grip on your wrists was unrelenting. He might as well have been made of steel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Once I do this,” he murmured, breathless, “There’s no going back. You’re mine. Do you understand?” You nod. David grabs ahold of your cheeks and squeezes. “Use your words, kitten.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I understand.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He positioned his blunt head at your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down, catching your clit a few times before fully sheathing himself. He didn’t go slow or ease you into it, but went in all at once, only stopping when he’d completely bottomed out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You cry out, fingers flexing to grab onto something, anything, but David did not let up. He let out a low, seductive groan. His nose nuzzled your own before reclaiming your lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulls away, allowing you to catch your breath. The pain subsided into pleasure. Your voice was soft, you hardly recognized it, when you said, “Please, move.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David pulled out and promptly slammed himself back in. His pace was slow yet forceful. Again and again he slammed into you, each time eliciting a little yelp from your lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, he releases your hands in favor of gripping the sheets. Your arms are around him in an instant, grasping his shirt and clawing at the nape of his neck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David swore quietly. He lifted off of one arm and then a thick drop of liquid hit your face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Open,” he ordered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You complied, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed you whatever this sweet liquid was.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys returned hours later—long enough for David to do his worst and then clean up afterwards.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>However, the boys knew exactly what you’d been up to. No amount of water could scrub the hickeys he’d left behind, or the permanent blush on your cheeks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sat on the couch, your legs tossed over David’s lap, while Paul, Marko, and Dwayne came jogging in, chatting about something that happened on their outing adamantly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David lifts his head, addressing them. “Fun time?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not as fun as yours,” said Marko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>None of them brought food back. Maybe they ate while they were out and didn’t bother to bring any back to you and David. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last meal you ate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It didn’t really matter—you weren’t hungry anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David stood, easing your legs off of him. “I’ll take my leave, then. Take care of her, okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul mock saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Inwardly, you smirk, sharing a look with David. His eyes flash with warning, a silent order to <em>not say anything </em>clear. He walks away, kissing your forehead, and leaves you to the wolves.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul and Marko are on you instantly, Dwayne taking his place in the back of the cave with the little boy, Laddie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have a fun time, baby?” asked Paul.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul snickered, a crooning a suggestive <em>yeah</em> as he situated himself behind you, urging you to let against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko pushes your knees apart, sitting between your legs. “I’ve been looking forward to this all fuckin’ night.” He skims his hands over your bare thighs, meeting your gaze. “Did David destroy your pants?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulls at the hem of your too-big T-shirt, exposing your underwear to the two of them. You squeal, trying to push the shirt back down, but Paul snatched your hands away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never did tell you how cute your panties are,” says Marko.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your face burns red. “Don’t tease me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I fully intend to finsh what I start, baby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko has you shimmy out of your panties, leaving them to dangle over one ankle. He spreads your lips with two fingers, forming a V.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hissed lightly. Your lips were already sore and overstimulated from David, but you weren’t about to stop them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He dipped his head and kissed your entrance once before licking a broad strip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Shit</em>.” Your head falls back against Paul’s shoulder. “Don’t do that, David came—” A moan cut you off. It seemed that Marko didn’t care much that David had cum inside you, or that there were specks of blood coloring your thighs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You like it when Marko eats your pussy, baby?” Paul murmured. “Does it feel good. C’mon, tell him. He won’t know unless you tell him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Feels good—<em>fuck—</em>so good.” Your hips roll unconsciously, seeking friction. Both the boys put an arm around you which might as well’ve been an iron band, holding you in place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko’s fingers replaced his tongue, prying you open with two from the get-go. He plunged as deep as he could, spreading his fingers to push the boundaries of your walls. Paul’s hand slithered down your stomach and he tapped your clit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You moan, voice high and so unlike your own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let out those noises, baby,” Paul encourages.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pinched your clit harshly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It was such an intense type of pleasure that it had your eyes rolling in the back of your head. You fell apart for them, your body shaking from overstimulation. Paul shifts his hips forward, grinding his erection against your backside.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His finger start to move again, matching Marko’s eager thrusts. You grip their wrists, hoping to stop—or at least slow—them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“W-Wait!” You squeeze your legs shut, but Marko’s presence prevents them from fully closing. “What about you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko looks past you at Paul. They share a look. “What about us?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul nuzzles the space behind your ear. “What’re you offering, baby?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I-It’s just, you’ve done a lot for me … it’s not fair to you guys. Right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The room takes a collective inhale.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Such a generous girl.” Paul pinches your ass, kissing your temple. “You think you can take us, baby? How do you want us?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How do you … want me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko’s eyes darken. He licks his lip. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jack it in the bathroom,” Dwayne all but barks. “I’m sick of plugging Laddie’s ears.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You peer over the couch and find a little boy sitting beside Dwayne, working his way through a package of beef jerky. An instant blush colors your face and you sink down as far as possible.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry, bud.” Paul shrugged off his jacket and slipped it over your shoulders. “We’ll take this elsewhere.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Exhausted, you collapsed onto your nest, eyes far too heavy to keep open. Your body was spent—your bones might as well’ve been jelly. You weren’t sure you would be able to move for the next week.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your buzz—or whatever it was—was wearing off. Your head felt less hazy, your body more alert to its needs. You tried not to think about your earlier worries, though without the constant high, it was hard not to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You were almost asleep when the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. Someone was in your room. Sleepily, you rolled over to acknowledge the figure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dwayne?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shifts, “Do you mind?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shuffled over in the nest and allowed him to climb in with you. You laid side by side, facing one another. His dark eyes studied your face. He was so close you could’ve counted his eyelashes had you not been so tired.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet, there was a burning question in your mind that prevented you from sleeping.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dwayne?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hm?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You propped yourself upon your arm. “What am I doing here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The cave?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“With you guys,” you correct. “David and Paul and Marko—and you. What is this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His brows furrow as he considers your words. Finally, he asks, “Are you not happy?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, Don’t answer my question with a question.” You tuck one of the throw pillows under your arms, hugging it tighly. “What are you doing with me? Am I some kind of ... game? ... Or conquest?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have we made you feel like that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know.” You pick at the pillow’s fabric, pulling in a lose thread. “I’ve never had any experience with things like this so most of my knowledge comes from friends. How guys will pass them around with their buddies and then dump them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And … you’re <em>worried</em> that’s what we are doing to you.” It’s not a question, but a statement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Curious</em>,” you correct, “but yes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He answers instantly. “We’re not.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hand, which up until now had been resting on his stomach, sank into the space between you. You looped your pinky with his much larger finger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then what are you doing?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne pauses, playing with your fingers. “I like you—<em>We</em> like you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All of you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.” His dark eyes flash to yours. “Do you like us?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I...” You purse your lips. “I don’t know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like you all more now that I know you better,” you say. You flash him a cheeky grin. “Before, you guys seemed like assholes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Language.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You roll your eyes, “It’s true. I thought you guys just wanted … I dunno, a conquest, a flirt. I figured it was just what you did ... Especially because of Star.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Star’s not like that.” Dwayne released your hand, rolling onto his back. “She’s more of a sister, not like you. She helps with …” He trails off, like he caught himself before he said something bad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Helps with what?” you press, “Cleaning?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne grunts. It’s not a yes or a no, but you take it as Dwayne is usually a man of few words. He says your name softly. “Hypothetically … If you could stay with us forever, would you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Forever is an awfully long time,” you state. “I’m sure you would get tired of me by then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I doubt it. When we all like something, we tend to hold onto it for a very long time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A very long time is not forever.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne smiles, “We haven’t gotten there yet.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The both of you fall silent, sharing a secret grin, one that spoke volumes. Dwayne untangles his hand from yours and touches your face. His thumb brushes your cheek softly. Your eyes flutter shut, melting into him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He leans in, nose nudging yours. For the longest time you only sit there, until you finally make the first move. You push forward, capturing his plush lips. His reaction is instant, body curving into yours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hand trails down your back until he reaches the dip just above your ass. He pressed you close and your leg drapes over his hips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne lazily grinds against you, knee making a home for itself between your legs. You whimper. Your body is sore as it is, yet he somehow awakens it’s with the simplest touch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He breaks the kiss and brings his arm up to his mouth. A delicious scent wafts through the air and you seek it out. Dwayne puts his forearm to your lips and cool, thick liquid drips onto your tongue. You lap it up, licking his arm with a furvor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It doesn’t strike you what you’re doing—what this liquid is, or the fact that the boys seem so adamant to feed it to you. Because as soon as it touches your tongue, your mind shuts off. Warm, fuzzy feelings take over and all you can do is what you want.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>This is what I want</em>, you think as Dwayne guides you to straddle him. <em>This is what I want</em>, you think as you grind against him. <em>This is what I want</em>, you think as your slipping down his pants and sinking onto his cock.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>This is what I want</em>. But, if you’re being honest with yourself, this is what you <em>need</em>.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wake much of the same the next day—exhausted and sore, and in the dark. But this time, you’re not alone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne lays in bed with you. (Though, a more accurate statement would be, Dwayne lays on the bed and you lay on top of him.) Before you went to sleep, he promised you that you all would have a serious talk about your relationship and what it meant going forward.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You snuggle him for as long as you can stand it before you have to get up. Nature calls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After you’re finished, you wander sleepily into the main den. The boys aren’t up yet, but Star is. You hadn’t seen her at all since that first night, so you were understandably startled seeing her again. Especially when the first thing she did was grab you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the hell—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Shhh</em>, keep your voice down. We need to get you out of here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tug against her, but her grip is too strong. “Stop it. What are you doing?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve been here too long. Michael will be worried sick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pull again, this time managing to free yourself. “I’m a big girl, I think I can handle myself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bewildered, Star stares at you. She takes a step forward but does not attempt to grab you again, and sniffs. The sound might’ve gone unnoticed if you had been properly distracted, but you weren’t. She took a step back, hand touching her lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You drank it, didn’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Drank what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pity contorts her face. Pity and pain. She winces, “I’m so sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Star.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two of you whirl around to see David leaning against the nearby wall. The other boys—you hadn’t heard them come in—they are scattered about the room, each wearing a similar look.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Star sets her jaw, “David, what have you done?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Star</em>.” It’s a warning. There’s a ferocity in his eyes that frightens you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You step back, looking between them. “What’s she talking about?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David doesn’t look at you. His eyes narrow a fraction, nostrils flairing. Star shrivels under his glare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“David,” you say again, slower this time, “What is she talking about?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think that’s enough for one night.” David clenches his jaw. “Star, get out of my sight. You know what to do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She purses her lips and turns to get Laddie. The two of them walk out of the cave slowly, casting a glance back at you every few steps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>None of the boys look at you. All that is heard is the crashing waves outside of the cave and the sound of Marko’s birds flying.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You open your mouth to ask again, but David beats you to it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We need to talk.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>You thought the most terrifying moment in your life was behind you. Your first, true, brush with fear happened when Michael crashed the bike back in Phoenix. There had been so much blood and mangled limbs…</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, as it turned out, that was only a <em>taste</em> of true fear. Now, you experienced it in full.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It started with denial. They were joking—obviously. There was no way they were telling the truth. It was ridiculous! Maybe they were trying to scare you off now that they got what they wanted, or maybe they were just being assholes! Hey, whatever man, funny joke, now let’s be serious.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But their faces were stoic and they weren’t laughing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then came numbness. The kind that infected your bloodstream slowly, working its way through your system until you were paralyzed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their words sunk in. Their proof, however bizarre, was seeming ... <em>believable</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then, you fell. Your legs just stopped working and you collapsed onto the rough floor. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t hear anything but the roaring in your ears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something hot, fat tears sped down your cheeks, pouring faster and faster until you were sobbing. You dug your fingers into the rock, pebbles piecing the sensitive flesh between your nails.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You tried to rationalize but your brain was short circuiting. The mirror ... your reflection ...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your lungs constricted painfully. You gasped, taking in as much air as you possibly could, but it wasn’t enough. Your vision darkened around the edges.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul is the most hurt by your reaction. He reaches out, ready to pull you into his arms and sooth your worries. “Baby—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>No</em>!” You smacked the hand away with as much force as you could muster. “Don’t <em>touch</em> me—don’t even <em>look</em> at me. You’ve … You killed me.” Tears blurred your vision. “Did you really think that I would <em>want</em> this?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David crouched to your level, “Let’s calm down.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I said <em>calm</em> <em>down</em>.” Your mouth instantly snapped shut as some sort of compulsion came over you, soothing the torn edges of your anger. David squatted, coming to your level. “We’re going to talk through this. Why are you upset?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Because you turned me into a—into a <em>vampire</em> without me knowing. Because you’ve <em>ripped</em> <em>away</em> any future I might’ve had—to start a family, to grow old, to <em>have</em> <em>a</em> <em>life</em>! Because of you I might never see my family again. How can I be in the same room as them without wanting to kill them! They’ll grow old and die and I’ll be frozen like this forever!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You exhaled heavily. The words had just flown out like word vomit, leaving you drenched in a cold sweat and shaky. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David’s face was infuriatingly calm the whole time. He tilts his head, “There it is, the root of the problem.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No—fuck you! <em>Fuck</em>. <em>You</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He continues like he didn’t hear you. “You’re afraid to leave your family behind.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your bottom lip quivers. How you wanted to spit in his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t have to,” said David. He cups your chin. “We can make them immortal. Michael is already half-way there, like you. All we need to do is change your mother and little brother.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You <em>can</em>. It’s easy. You don’t have to be alone. You can have them—and us. We can all live together, one big happy family.” David kissed your tears, guiding you to look at him. “You’ll never grow old. You’ll never die. You can live with those who will love you forever. But you must feed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Feed,” you echoed. “As in ... human blood?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s right. It’s easy. All you have to do is take one bite and the rest will come to you with ease. And once you and Michael turn, it will be easier for your Mom and Sam to join as well.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You trembled, but fell apart in his arms. David allowed you to fall, wrapping you in his arms, holding you close.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t want to be alone,” you sobbed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ll never be alone again,” he assured you.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You took refuge in your room. Despite the fact that you accepted everything (and you mean accepted in the loosest of terms) you needed space.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Blood. For the past couple of days, you’d been surviving on <em>blood</em>. The thought alone made your stomach sour.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pressed as far up against the cave wall as you possibly could, the rock scraping your back uncomfortably, but pain was the furthest thing from your mind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You tucked your knees under your chin, staring at the wall. How were you going to tell Mom? This isn’t something like coming home with a new tattoo—this was serious. Mind boggling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And the boys ... None of it made sense?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, Dwayne’s comment about forever made sense. He was asking you, legitimately asking you, if you wanted this. It was a bit too late to ask, in your opinion, considering they’d turned you practically the moment they got their hands on you</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone was coming. You straightened up—on guard—until you saw it was Laddie. The little boy whom you’d had practically zero contact with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi,” you croak.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... Hi.” He stands, shifting back and forth in the doorway. Then, he comes inside. He stops a few steps from where you sit and thrusts out his hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You look in between it, and him. Then, you pick it up. In the low light, you have trouble making out exactly what it is, but you think it’s an earring.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“David told me to give it to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You purse your lips. You don’t want to, but you feel a small smile threatening to spread. You stifle the feeling and lay the earring down on the floor beside you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s very pretty, you can tell him I appreciate it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He ... He didn’t want me to tell you it was from him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The corner of your mouth twitches. “Then you don’t have to tell him anything. But thank you for delivering it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gives you a shy smile, pleased he was being recognized. Then, he asks, “Are you hungry?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your stomach churns. <em>You’d been drinking blood for the past couple of days.</em> You swallow around a lump in your throat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No—no thank you. I’m ... fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.” He stalls a moment, really looking at you, before taking off. In the distance, you hear him speak. “She says she’s not hungry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thanks for tryin’, bud.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A pause.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then, footsteps. You don’t have to look up to know that it’s Dwayne. It makes sense that he would be the one to come. Marko and Paul were too eager, and David was ... <em>David</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sinks to the floor, not walking into your room, staying just outside of it. He says nothing. There’s a kind of solidarity in the quiet that makes you at ease. He’s here for you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two of you sit in silence for ages. And, much to your surprise, you’re the one who breaks the silence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Was it like this for you?” He looks up. “When it happened ... did you want it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne shrugs. “I wasn’t against it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>More quiet. “It’s a lot easier than you might think. Turning. Feeding. It probably seems bad now, but ...” He trails off and shrugs again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod, “I believe you.” But you don’t really mean it. Right now, you’re not sure you can even fathom it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne can tell. His expression softens into something almost like pity, but more like understanding. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Again, you nod. “I believe you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And you mean it. You haven’t known them more than a few days but you <em>know</em>. It’s a gut-feeling, not quite instinct, but a kind of tether that links to the boys. An innate sense of knowing them, like you’d known them for years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re just not sure you trust it.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys stood along the railing, watching the evenings band perform.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael ported then instantly, storming up to them. He tore Marko away from the railing and grabbed David by the lapels. Paul, Dwayne, and Marko were on him instantly, pulling the halfling back, ready to pry him off, but David held up a hand—halting them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Where</em> <em>is</em> <em>she</em>?” Michael growled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, take it easy.” David blew a steady stream of smoke in his face, smirking. “You’ve got to be more specific, Michael.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where’s <em>Star</em>, David?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David couldn’t deny his shock. His sister had been missing for nearly four days but all he cared about was some other girl. But, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he laughs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop laughing,” Michael growls, shaking him. “Tell me where she is or I swear...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Swear all you like. I thought you would be a little more concerned about your baby sister. She’s been gone for a while, hasn’t she? Poor mom must be worried sick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s brain short circuited. The boys could physically see him pale, his eyes going wide as he processed David’s words. When it seemed to finally click, he was feral. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>What have you done?</em> Do you have my sister, you motherfucker—!” He prepared to deliver another punch but Dwayne caught it mid air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Michael—if you ever wanna see her again, you’ll come with me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael reluctantly follows behind them to their bikes. Much to his surprise and dismay, you’re there, leaning against one of the bikes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyes lit up the moment you saw him. Michael’s stomach dropped. The two of you broke into a sprint, meeting halfway in a bone crushing hug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Seeing Michael again made it all real. Everything the boys said—Michael being half, the thought of having your family forever. Even though he was the literal worst at times, he was your brother and you couldn’t bare to lose him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulls back, hands holding you by the shoulder as he looked you over. “Don’t you ever do that again. I thought you were dead! Mom went to the police and filed a missing persons, and Sammy’s been losing his mind, and Grandpa—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Calm down.” You squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Nothing ...” You trail off. It doesn’t seem right to say <em>nothing</em> <em>happened</em>. “I’m fine. I’m okay, really. I’m sorry I worried you, I wasn’t thinking.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’d kick your ass but I’m too relieved,” he says.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can try.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He makes a face and you flick him in the forehead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David calls your name. You’d almost forgotten he was there in the first place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s time to go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You step back, eyes darting to Michael once, then nod. You climb on the back of Dwayne’s bike. (While a part of you was still mad at him, and the other boys, you had no desire to ride with Michael. Never again.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s expression shifts into something like disgust. He regards David coldly, and for a moment you think he might punch him. “What have you done to her?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David rolls his eyes. “Get on your bike, Michael.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>***</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They park their bikes at the base of a dune. The six of you had ridden for a good fifteen minutes, until you were in the midst of a less popular beach. It was practically a ghost town. There were a handful of people on the beach but they were spread far enough apart to make it more private than Santa Carla.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All night, the boys had been practically vibrating with excitement. Now that you were here, they were worse. Half-mad with anticipation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne helps you off his bike, wearing one of his dopy grins. He hoists you over his shoulder, spins you around once for good measure, then puts you down to run off with the others. They climb a dead tree, each claiming a branch of their own.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stand at the base of the tree, taking refuge behind the branches. Across the dune, Aerosmith’s <em>Walk</em> <em>This</em> <em>Way</em> blares through a set of speakers. A group of Surf Nazi’s dance around a bonfire.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The sand is strewn with empty beer bottles, their rockbox propped up on a nearby log.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The scent hits you <em>hard</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At the boardwalk, you were far enough away from everyone that you hadn’t really been exposed to anyone. But here ... Here, the thirst hit you like a sucker punch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your throat burned, like someone had stuck a white-hot poker in it. Your tongue was dry and heavy in your mouth. Their drunken, sweaty bodied bobbed around the fire pit, stupidly unaware of the predators that loomed mere feet away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Michael</em>,” David calls, “Over here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael hesitates a moment, eyes flicking towards yours, as if to say <em>We</em> <em>can still get out of this</em>. You turn away, gripping the branch so hard it threatened to snap. There’s no getting out of this. <em>No</em> <em>turning</em> <em>back</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He slips off of his bike and took his place on one of the lower branches. “What are we doing here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Initiations over, Michael.” David can barely contain his eagerness—but he’s fairing better than the others. “Time to join the club.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys, half covered by shadows, suddenly lean forward. Their faces warped into something demonic. Eyes a sickly shade of yellow, encircled by a ring of blood red. They have fangs. Big, horrifying teeth so sharp they could slice bone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael shrieks, falling back, but the boys only laugh. They launch themselves from the tree and descent upon the party. Cheers of joy turn to screams of terror.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everything happens at once, the screams and tearing of flesh. The blood soaked sand gleaming like rubies in the firelight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The rational, human part of you wants to throw up. This is a massacre—the kind of scene you never thought you’d see outside of a movie. But there is a deep, primal part of you—awoken by the vampiric blood coursing through your veins—sends you into overdrive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re moving before you can stop yourself, snapping the branch off the tree like it was a toothpick. You half-fly across the dune, landing in the middle of the bloodbath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael screams your name, ragged. “What are you doing?! Get back here!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David greets you with open arms. He holds out a Surf Nazi—not quite dead, clinging to the life inside. He won’t be around for long. The gash in his throat is deep, an entire chunk of his flesh missing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His chest is heaving, chin dripping with blood. “<em>Feed</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael’s voice is distant in your ears, “<em>No!</em>”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was like Dwayne said: it was easy. Your instincts took over, drowning out the puny human part of you, and you grabbed the Surf Nazi. The shift ripples through you, and your jaw unhinges. The first speck of blood coats your tongue and--</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael tackles you to the ground. The two of you roll a little too close to the bonfire, pieces of you hair catching the flames. Michael hoists you up, half-throwing you out of the bloodbath. Immediately, you lunge for him. You don’t care that you’re potentially hurting your brother, hell, you don’t even care that he’s your brother. You’re pissed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>That was your meal.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He just <em>stole</em> your meal from you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You scratch his face, shredding the skin under his eye. An unearthly growl escapes you. You’re so mad you could <em>kill</em> him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This isn’t you!” he shouts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You launch yourself at him, but Michael swiftly dodges. He grabs you by the back of your shirt and drags you, kicking and screaming, over the dune back to his bike.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let me go! Let me go, Michael!” Your limbs flail, reaching for any piece of him that you can get and tear into. “<em>I’ll</em> <em>fucking</em> <em>kill</em> <em>you</em>, let me go!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He dumps you hard, shoving your face in the sand. “Listen to me! You don’t want to do this! You’re not a killer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hot tears fell down your cheeks. You didn’t want to listen to him. Over and over again, you cry, “<em>Let me go, Mikey, please. Let me go</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your throat is so dry it hurts. It doesn’t help that every time you speak, you’re eating mouthfuls of sand, but you can’t stop. You don’t know what else to do but beg. Didn’t he understand how much pain he was causing you? Didn’t he care?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Please, Mikey, please. Just lemme go</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not until you’re better.” Michael sits on your middle, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t get up. Even as a half vampire, he’s stronger than you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys stalk up over the dunes, faces bloody and scowling at Michael. He ruined the night--in more ways than one.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now you know what we are, Michael. What you are. You’ll never grow old and you’ll never die.” David’s scowl deepens. “<em>But</em> <em>you</em> <em>must</em> <em>feed</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael stiffens. There’s no way he <em>isn’t</em> struggling. He was turned almost a week before you, it’s a wonder he went this long without going batshit insane.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But his protective instinct outweighs his hunger. He grips you under the arms and hoists you out of the sand. He stands in front of you, and shouts, “You stay away from us, do you hear me? Just stay away.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, David’s scowl seems demonic, much like the horrid face he had displayed earlier. “You can’t escape this, Michael. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t care.” His voice was hardly louder than a whisper. He sniffs, grip tight on your wrist, and pushes you back. “If I see you around again—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ll what?” David cocks his head. “<em>Kill</em> us? I’d like to see you try. Besides, Michael, you’re not calling the shots.” His eyes fall onto your pathetic form. “If she wants to stay then you can’t make her go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sweat clung to the back of your neck. Michael shook his head. “She doesn’t want to be with you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why don’t we ask her?” David reaches out, gloved palm inviting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a tempting offer. You knew what awaited you if you accepted—an eternity of love and happiness. They wouldn’t judge you or forget about you. They wouldn’t hold you back from what you truly wanted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But … part of that happiness involves your family. Michael. Sammy. Mom. Eternity without them would be hell.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David calls your name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everything is so confusing. You can’t think straight. The scent of blood is clouding your judgement. The small, human part of you was clawing its way back to the surface, fighting tooth and nail to overcome your new urges. You’re certain that if you don’t leave now, the war inside of you will drive you insane.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wince. “I … I don’t know, David. I need time to think about this—to talk with my family.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His confidence falters ever so slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry.” You looked at all of them, each word a knife to the heart. “I can’t—not right now. I need space. I’m so sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You squeeze Michael’s hand. He needs no further encouragement and takes you to his bike. This time, you don’t worry about him wrecking or the fact that you’re both too shaken up to be driving state. No, the need to get as far away as possible is an unspoken agreement between you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His bike roars to life and he wastes no time peeling out in a spray of sand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You look back at them as Michael drives off, and don’t look away until they’re nothing but specks in the distance. The look of utter betrayal on their faces sticks with you the whole night.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Both you and Michael tumble through Sammy’s window. You’re not sure what you expect, but it’s definitely not him screaming in your face. He’d just closed his closet door, muttering something to himself about Grandpa, when he turned and saw you. He jumped a foot into the air.</p><p>Now, to be fair, you <em>did</em> appear out of no where. That alone would’ve scared you if the situations were reversed. Considering the sorry state the two of you were in, you’re sure it only amplified his fear.</p><p>“It’s okay.” Michael quickly holds a hand up in surrender. “I know what I am now, Sam.”</p><p>His eyes soften a smidgen. He mutters your name in disbelief. And then he notices your clothes—your skin—all stained with blood.</p><p>He shields himself with the closet door. “Don’t kill me, guys—I’m basically a good kid, so just don’t kill me.”</p><p>You grit your teeth. The scent of his blood brings back the painful burning in your throat. “We’re not going to kill you, dipshit.”</p><p>“<em>You don’t know that.</em> Your baser instincts could kick in and you slaughter me right now. But don’t. I can help you,” Sammy insists. He takes a tentative step forward, “Just tell me who the head vampire is.”</p><p>“<em>Vampire</em>,” you echo.</p><p>He knows. <em>How does he know?</em></p><p>“I thought it was Max,” he continues, “But I was wrong. Just work with me and I can help you—you’ll be okay.”</p><p>Max. That geeky guy from the video store? All this new information sends you into a tizzy. If it weren’t for Mikey holding you up, you’re sure you would’ve collapsed.</p><p>“Sammy, just calm down.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he squeaks. “You two might be a part of the legion of the undead here to Dracula my ass.”</p><p>“<em>Michael</em>!” The voice comes from outside. “<em>Michael</em>!”</p><p>All three of you turned. You rush the window, pushing them open. Down below, cloaked in darkness, is Star.</p><p>“It’s that girl from the boardwalk,” murmurs Sam. “Is she one of them?”</p><p>“What’s she doing here, Michael?”</p><p>Star turns, checking behind her, then looks up at you all. “<em>I have to talk to you, can I come up?</em>”</p><p>“No!” Michael grabs Sam. “You shut your window and lock your door.”</p><p>He pushes away from the window but a supernatural wind fills the space. You draw your arms up, protecting your face. When you lower them, Star is beside you.</p><p>Sam’s eyes go wide. “She’s one of them!” He jumps into his bed, throwing the covers over his body. “And don’t tell me it doesn’t make her a bad person, Mike!”</p><p>Michael steps in front of you, glaring daggers. Star’s face falls. She obviously hadn’t expected such a cold welcome.</p><p>When he speaks, his voice is full of venom. “You know where David took us tonight, don’t you, Star?”</p><p>“<em>Who’s David?!</em>”</p><p>She steps forward, voice strong. “Yes. It’s my fault … If you hadn’t met me, if I hadn’t liked you…” Her voice cracks. “I tried to warn you.”</p><p>An empty, angry smile crosses Michael’s face. “It was that night in the cave, wasn’t it? That wasn’t wine they gave me to drink, it was blood. It was David’s blood.”</p><p>Star swallows hard, looking down at her feet.</p><p>“You drank someone’s blood?!” shouts Sam. “Are you <em>crazy</em>?!”</p><p>Michael continues, ignoring him. “Well, I’m <em>just</em> <em>like</em> David now, Star.”</p><p>“No you’re not!” She perks up. “You’re like Laddie and me. We’re not one of them un—”</p><p>“Until you make your first kill!” Sam finishes.</p><p>Michael’s gaze softens, but it doesn’t last. “I might’ve been able to forgive you if it wasn’t for her.” He jams his thumb in your direction. “Why didn’t you tell me she was with them?”</p><p>“I … I didn’t know how.”</p><p>“So you knew?” She nods. “Why didn’t you stop them?! You knew what they were going to do to her and you just—<em>let</em> <em>it</em> <em>happen</em>?”</p><p>“I couldn’t … Michael, please, you have to believe me.” Pleadingly, she looks to you. “There’s nothing I could’ve done. They don’t listen to me. Please, Michael, I’m sorry. You have to believe me.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t. Because of you, my sister almost killed someone tonight.”</p><p>Sammy buries himself deeper in his blankets. “<em>You what</em>?!”</p><p>Tears well up in Star’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Michael looks like he’s two seconds away from snapping her neck. You reach out, stopping him. “It’s not her fault.”</p><p>“She could’ve <em>done</em> something.”</p><p>“No, she couldn’t’ve.” You glare. “I made that decision myself. I chose to drink the wine—blood—whatever. I did this to myself, not Star, not David.”</p><p>A heavy silence falls over the room. You can tell that Michael wants to argue you, but you give him a stern look.</p><p>Star clears her throat, “I just … I came here to tell you it’s not too late for you. Either of you. But for me it gets harder and harder to resist. I’m weak.”</p><p>You step back and Michael huffs. “Why did you come here tonight, Star?”</p><p>“I was hoping you could help Laddie and me,” she admits. </p><p>Michael steps back and laughs humorlessly. He turns around, but changes him mind on leaving and faces Star again, but she’s gone. Both Michael and Sam rush the window.</p><p>“Star!”</p><p>“Don’t kill anyone until we get back to you!”</p><p>
  
</p><p>You couldn’t run to the bathroom fast enough. The invisible layer of grime which coated you was slowly suffocating you. Hastily, you strip yourself of your borrowed clothes. They’d need to be burned. There was no way you could keep them, not with the amount of blood encrusted in the fabric.</p><p>You caught a glimpse of your reflection and the lump in your throat hardened. You’re translucent—just like you had been when the boys showed you back in the cave. Their reflections were non existent, but you were see through.</p><p>Seeing it now only solidified what had happened.</p><p>You clamp your hand over your mouth, but it was too late. You ran to the toilet and puked. Nothing came up—you hadn’t eaten anything in days, but it didn’t matter. You kept heaving until your chest was bruised from hugging the bowl too tightly.</p><p>You’d came close to killing someone tonight. <em>Actually</em> killing someone. And—in the moment—you hadn’t felt bad about it.</p><p>You fell to the side, resting your head against the toilet seat. You didn’t want to think about how gross it was. You’d done far worse tonight alone.</p><p>How did everything get so twisted?</p><p>The boys—Paul, David, Marko, Dwayne—they <em>weren’t</em> bad guys. They were kind and sweet and they wanted to care for you …</p><p>And they murdered a group of innocents in front of you. They force fed you blood for three nights straight, clouding your judgement, distracting you with sex. They made you too dumb to think for yourself. They made you pliant to their will.</p><p>Was any of it real? Had you actually felt something for them? You couldn’t tell. The earlier effects of David’s blood left you hazy. For all you knew, it was influencing your every decision.</p><p>You lifted your head just enough to eye your bracelet. You knew you should take it off—throw it away, flush it, smash it—but you didn’t want to. Maybe it was fucked up of you but … you weren’t ready.</p><p>You sat on the cold, tile floor for the longest time before working up the courage to shower. You needed to scrub yourself clean—of that bloodbath, of the boys.</p><p>You turned on the water, waiting until you saw steam before climbing in. You stepped in, directly into the stream, letting it hit your face full on, like the water would some how cleans your mind. And then, you screamed.</p><p>Hastily, you jerked the knob towards the cold, waiting for the burn to cease, but it didn’t. The water was freezing cold and yet you felt like you were melting alive.</p><p>You leaped from the shower, barely having time to wrap a towel around yourself before the door was flung open. Sam and Michael stood there, eyes wide, searching for any sign of danger.</p><p>“Why did you scream?”</p><p>You look all over yourself for any sign of what you felt. Some kind of burn or melted skin or something. But there wasn’t anything. Your skin looked normal.</p><p>“The water.”</p><p>“What about the water?”</p><p>“I don’t know! It burned me!”</p><p>Sam frowned. “Did you have it on really hot?”</p><p>“No—I don’t think so?”</p><p>Michael frowned. He reached into the still-running shower and jerked back, clutching his hand. “<em>Jesus</em>!”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“It’s like acid or something.”</p><p>Sam walks in and throws the shower curtain back.</p><p>“Sammy, don’t—!”</p><p>He sticks his hand in and…</p><p>“It’s fine,” he says. “Maybe a little warm for my tastes but nothing to freak out about, you babies.” He reaches in and turns the knob. “Try it now.”</p><p>You and Michael share a look.</p><p>“You do it.”</p><p>“It’s your shower!”</p><p>“And you’re the man!”</p><p>Michael makes a face. <em>Gotcha</em>. You stick your tongue out.</p><p>Reluctantly, he puts his hand under the stream. “<em>Shit</em>!”</p><p>He jerks it away, shaking the water of. For a split second, his skin is bright red.</p><p>You hold yourself a little tighter. “What is it—do you think some kind of acid got into the pipes?”</p><p>“Acid that only affects you two?” Sam points out.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Michael shoots you a nasty look. “Just—forget about it and put some damn clothes on.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>You took up residence in Mike and Sammy’s shared room. Sam kept a healthy distance away from the two of you, slinging a strand of garlic around his neck for extra protection.</p><p>Michael conked out quickly, the exhaustion of the night taking its toll on him. You wished you could’ve fallen to sleep as easily, but you were too wired.</p><p>You sat with your back against the wall, fingering the onyx bracelet on your wrist.</p><p>“So, Sammy, how did you find out about vampires?”</p><p>He shuffled around then tossed a comic book towards you. It reads, <em>Vampires Everywhere! </em>A classic Dracula vampire was printed on the front. Arms raised and fangs bared.</p><p>You flip it open and land on a particularly gorey page of a woman being preyed on by the vampire. <em>The Undead’s Concubine</em>, it reads. You cringe and flip to a new page.</p><p>“These guys who work at the comic book store on the boardwalk—they’re vampire hunters. They warned me about the infestation here in Santa Carla. I didn’t believe them until I saw what was going on with Michael.”</p><p>“Vampire hunters?” you echo. “How many vampires have they killed?”</p><p>“Well … technically zero.”</p><p>You decide not to comment on that. “And … how does Max factor into any of this?”</p><p>Sam shrugs, playing with the bulbs of garlic around his neck. “All this started after Mom started working for him. He works the night shift and he has this dog … Anyway, me and the Frog brothers—those are the vampire hunter guys—checked. He’s not one. So … we’re back to square one.”</p><p>You flip to a page of a vampire being staked. A lump forms in your throat. That’s enough of that for one night. You toss it back to Sammy and rest your chin on your knees.</p><p>“Those kids, how did they know?”</p><p>“Not sure.” Sam tucks the book under his pillow. “They’re pretty knowledgeable. You’ll meet them in the morning. Just be prepared, they can be pretty intense.”</p><p>You’re not sure how intense a couple of middle-schoolers could be, but you’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. You rest your head against the wall and shut your eyes.</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>You crack an eye open. “What about me?”</p><p>“What happened to you. Mike … he won’t tell me.”</p><p>You shrug and shut your eyes again. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”</p><p>Sam chucks a pillow at your head.</p><p>
  
</p><p>It felt like you had just shut your eyes when Michael was shaking you awake.</p><p>It was daylight. The sun was ten times brighter today, glaring down at you through the open window. You hadn’t been out in the sun for three days, or would take your eyes some time to adjust.</p><p>Michael reached over on the dresser and pulled out a pair of plastic, neon blue sunglasses. “Put these on. It helps.”</p><p>You accept them and slide them over your prescription frames. It’s a disaster, but it’s better than nothing.</p><p>From downstairs, Sam calls out. “Guys, they’re here! Come down!”</p><p>Michael takes the lead with you staggering behind. Every move feels like your swimming through molasses. If it weren’t for the walls, you’d have probably fallen over by now.</p><p>The Frog brothers were a curious pair. About Sammy’s age with fierce, hateful looks in their eyes. The one with darker hair nods towards you.</p><p>“She looks more like a zombie than a bloodsucker.”</p><p>The lighter haired boy reaches behind him and whips out a thick piece of wood with a sharpened point. “Should I run her through?”</p><p>Your eyes widen, looking between your brothers and the tiny menaces. “Where the hell are your parents?”</p><p>“Guys.” Sam gestures between the two of you. “These are the Frog brothers, Edgar and Alan.”</p><p>Edgar narrows his eyes, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ve only got one question for you and I want an honest answer: have you taken any human victims yet?”</p><p>“Of course not!”</p><p>“You?” he addresses Michael.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>He raises his eyebrows, considering your answers. “If you’re telling the truth, it means we can save you.”</p><p>“They’re telling the truth!” interjects Sam, “… Right, guys?”</p><p>Edgar continues his spiel, fingering a wooden stake of his own, “To free you, we must <em>destroy</em> the leader of the vampires.”</p><p>You can’t stifle your laughter. “You’re <em>joking</em>, right?”</p><p>“Do you think we carry these stakes to look cool?” he sneers. “We are dedicated to this path, to saving vam<em>posers </em>like yourself. Just tell us who the head vampire is and we’ll free your asses.”</p><p>Another bought of laughter escapes you. This time, you don’t even care. All four boys shoot you a look. “What? You’re not taking them seriously—they’re <em>children</em>, Michael.”</p><p>“Right now we’re your best bet, lady,” growls Alan. He eyes you warily. “If you vamp out on us, I won’t hesitate to stake you.”</p><p>He tightens his grip on his stake and—for the smallest moment—you think he might.</p><p>Michael breaks the quiet. “I’ll take you to where they live.”</p><p>You whirl around, eyes wide. <em>You can’t be serious, right?</em></p><p><em>Deadly</em>.</p><p>Icy tendrils I’d dread creep down your spine. You know they’re joking—they have to be. But, for the second time in one day, you would be wrong.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, you can barely stand,” says Edgar. “Besides, <em>your</em> basically one of them.”</p><p>“Isaid<em> I’ll take you there.</em>” Michael snarls, looking positively vampiric. “No ones getting near Star but me.”</p><p>The boys mutter in agreement and it’s decided. There’s no shop talk, no beating around the bush; the moment they decided Michael would go was the moment they sprung into action.</p><p>You clutch the railing hard enough you feel it splinter under your grip.</p><p>Michael hesitates at the base of the stairs. “David and his brothers are bad people. I’m doing this to save us—and Star.” His eyebrows pinch inwards. “You’re with me, aren’t you?”</p><p>The lump in your throat grows until it’s painful to swallow around.</p><p>David … Dwayne … Paul … Marko.</p><p>You might’ve been upset at them but—but you didn’t want them <em>dead</em>.</p><p>In your mind, you see that picture in Sammy’s comic—the one of the vampire getting staked, but instead of that ridiculous caricature you see <em>them</em>. It hurts more than you want to admit.</p><p>You swallow hard, your words coming out hardly above a whisper.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>You arrive at Hudson’s Bluff after a very tense car ride.</p><p>You and Michael sat in the front of Grandpa’s “borrowed” Chevy—Michael taking his place behind the wheel and you situated in the passenger’s seat.</p><p>Sammy and the Frogs squished themself in the back. While you didn’t particularly like the idea of those two homicidal kids at your back, you trusted that Sam would keep them from stabbing you.</p><p>The Frogs leap out of the car before it comes to a full stop. “Weapons check!”</p><p>Michael points down the cliff to the rickety stairs. “It’s down there.”</p><p>The whole ride, you’d been combatting a horrid bought of nausea. But now that you’re here—now that you know what is happening—you feel bile begin to rise.</p><p><em>This isn’t right</em>.</p><p>You spy the cave from where you stand. Something inside of you was <em>pulling </em>you closer. An urge, a need to go in—go back. <em>Go home</em>.</p><p>Stepping back, you brace yourself against the car. You don’t want any part of this. You have half a mind to jump in the car and drive off, leaving them to fend for yourself, but you can’t leave. You know what will happen if you do.</p><p>Sam jogs around to the driver’s side door, helping Michael out of the car. Michael grips him hard, pulling him close. “I don’t want you going down there.”</p><p>“Well, I’m going,” he says defiantly.</p><p>“Look—this isn’t a comic book, Sammy. These guys are brutal killers.”</p><p>“So are the Frog brothers!”</p><p>You push off of the car, leaving them all behind. You won’t listen to this.</p><p>The descent down the stairs is just as unnerving as the first time, the wood bowing uncomfortably under the smallest bit of pressure.</p><p>Standing at the mouth of the cave, you peer into the long, dark cavern. <em>They’re in there</em>. You can feel it.</p><p>Guilt eats you alive inside. You betrayed them once already. Their hurt expression was still fresh in your minds eye.</p><p>No—you wouldn’t feel guilty. You needed to go home to <em>know</em> for sure. You needed time and distance from them and their blood to think clearly.</p><p>Now, you knew. Now, your mind was made up.</p><p>Edgar elbowed past you, stepping confidently into the cave.</p><p>“You’re either in or out, girly. No in between.”</p><p>“And we don’t take kindly to traitors,” said Alan. “You’re on thin ice.”</p><p>You step into the cave. It’s not as dark as you initially thought. There were holes in the ceiling that you had never noticed before, allowing streams of sunlight into the lobby. Rocks crumbled underfoot but you made a safe landing.</p><p>Edgar lost an ounce of bravado as he looked around the cave. “Holy shit!”</p><p>“Vampire hotel!”</p><p>Edgar races over to the small section of the main cave you’ve come to know as Star’s room. He throws back the curtains, revealing her sleeping form.</p><p>“Here’s one! C’mon—let’s stake her!”</p><p>Michael stumbles down the steep stairs. “<em>Don’t you touch her! You stay away from her!</em>”</p><p>That was all the convincing the boys needed, apparently, because they left it alone, muttering something about vampires having rotten tempers.</p><p>“The rest of ‘em have got to be around here someplace.” Edgar pushes his brother forward. “Let’s find ‘em.”</p><p>Michael staggers in, heading directly for the nest in the lobby. “Star. Star, wake up. We’ve got to go.”</p><p>“No,” she moans. “Take Laddie first, please.”</p><p>Michael calls for you, “Help me get Laddie.”</p><p>“I feel a draft!” shouts Alan. Your heart lurches. “I feel a draft, over here.”</p><p>You looked between him and the boys. There’s no choice. “I’m going with them.”</p><p>Michael hisses your name, frustrated, but you tune him out.</p><p>The boys hoist each other into the crawl space and you’re clamoring after them, narrowly avoiding pipes and anchor bars that protrude from the wall.</p><p>The further you crawl into the cave, the more flies there are. They land on your skin, your face, and you try desperately to swat them away but eventually give up.</p><p>“We’re on the right track,” said Edgar. “Flies and the undead go together like guns and bullets.”</p><p>Finally, you make it out of the dark passage and into another sunken part of the cave. The Frogs withdrawal a set of heavy duty flashlights and shine them around the cavern. You all gasp in horror. Skeletons.</p><p>“Are these … victims?” Sam pales, eyes wide as saucers.</p><p>You creep closer, taking them in. A spider crawls out of a skull and you jerk back.</p><p>“No,” you state. “Look at them, they’re covered in cobwebs. These people have been here for decades.”</p><p>“And how long have your vamps been alive?” asks Edgar.</p><p>You can’t keep the venom from your voice. “<em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“Vampires are immortal. These could easily be past victims. Judging by their clothes I’d say 1920s, maybe sooner.” He pokes you with his flashlight. “If that’s the case then we have a serious problem on our hands.”</p><p>“Leave it alone, Edgar,” Sam snaps. “We have an actual mission. Fighting’s not gonna help us.”</p><p>Edgar glares at you a moment longer before turning away. “C’mon. We don’t know how far these caves go and we need to find their coffins before sundown.”</p><p>You trudge on wards, trailing behind them.</p><p>The further you go, the heavier the scent is. It’s faint at first, you think you’re imagining it; but it gets more <em>distinct</em> the further in you are. It’s the boys. Their cologne. Their innate scent that you had inhaled for days on end, finding comfort and pleasure in it. An instant calm comes over you.</p><p>Sam doubles over and retches. “What’s that smell?”</p><p>Edgar pinches his nose. “Vampires, my friend, <em>vampires</em>.”</p><p>Sam wipes his mouth with the back of his and and eyes you warily. “Why aren’t you effected.”</p><p>“I don’t smell anything bad.”</p><p>“It’s cause she’s one of them,” says Alan. “Her senses are … <em>different</em>.”</p><p>The boys are a little more on guard after that. They herd you in the middle of the group, one of the Frogs to your back, the other leading the way. Sam sticks to your side but he’s tense, like at any moment you’ll snap.</p><p>The cave drops off again, leading into a pitch black antechamber. Edgar jumps first, followed by you and Sam, and Alan bringing up the rear.</p><p>The scent is heavier in here. It envelops you like a thick blanket and you sigh. Your shoulders relax, but the cool in your gut tightens. They’re <em>here</em>.</p><p>“It’s freezing in here. Sam grabs your hand. “C’mon guys, this looks like a dead end. Let’s just head back.”</p><p>“They must’ve hidden their coffins around here someplace.”</p><p>They shine their lights on every inch of the little antechamber but … nothing.</p><p>Sam swallows hard. You hear his heart beat a little faster. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go guys.”</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>!”</p><p>Edgar scrambles back, colliding with Sam. You follow where his light is pointed and … Sam screams, but Edgar slaps his hand over his mouth.</p><p>Hanging <em>upside</em> <em>down</em> from the rafters are your boys.</p><p>Sam pushes the hand off of his mouth and tries to make a break for it, but the Frogs hold him back. “I thought they were supposed to be in coffins!”</p><p>“That’s what this cave is,” said Edgar. “It’s one giant coffin.” He shares a look with his brother and they nod in sync.</p><p>You squeeze Sam’s hand hard. The light flashes over them one by one. David. Marko. Paul. Dwayne. All of them asleep, all of them blissfully unaware of the pre-pubescent maniacs coming for them.</p><p>Edgar spots an old ladder and begins to climb it. “Right now, they’re at their most vulnerable,” he explains.</p><p>Alan follows after him. “Easy pickin’s.”</p><p>“Remember, you just have to kill the leader,” Sam whispers.</p><p>Your eyes dart to David. <em>Wake up</em>, you beg. <em>Please</em>, <em>wake</em> <em>up</em>.</p><p>“We don’t know which one the leader is.”</p><p>For a moment, you feel relieved. They don’t know—Michael never told them and it’s not like any of them actually <em>knew</em> your boys.</p><p>The stakes clatter against the cave wall as Edgar unsheathes one. “I guess we’ll just have to kill them all.”</p><p>The earth sways beneath you. Sammy catches you, holding you upright.</p><p>When you don’t say anything, he continues climbing. “We’ll start with the little one. First come, first <em>staked</em>.”</p><p><em>Marko</em>.</p><p>“What was that?” Sam sneers, “A little vampire humor? It wasn’t funny.”</p><p>You push off of him, staggering towards the ladder. You try to speak, but no sound comes out. <em>No</em>.</p><p><em>No</em>.</p><p><em>Nononono</em>—</p><p>Edgar rears his arm back for a bigger momentum.</p><p>“No!” shouts Sam. “Don’t even—!”</p><p>“Goodnight, bloodsucker.”</p><p>“<em>No</em>!”</p><p>“MARKO!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“MARKO!”</p><p>Rocks crumble from the ceiling, tumbling to the dirt floor. Your shout echoes through the cave, bouncing from wall-to-wall, high pitched and strong.</p><p>The reaction is instantaneous. One by one, the boys open their eyes, which are all the same shade of pure, reflective yellow—<em>the eyes of a killer. </em>The boys scream, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. They thrash about, fangs on display, four terrible gaping maws ready to tear into the trespassers.</p><p>Edgar drops the stake, all blood draining from his face. “Shit!”</p><p>David is livid. When he speaks, his voice is an unearthly growl like a creature from hell. “You’re all dead! <em>YOU’RE DEAD MEAT</em>!”</p><p>Edgar and Alan clamor off the ladder, but ultimately fall on their ass when they can’t get down quick enough. Marko is the first to flip right-side up, teeth gnashing and clawed hands out-stretched, grabbing ahold of Alan when he tries to run.</p><p>“<em>Alan</em>!”</p><p>Edgar and Sam physically tear him from Marko’s grasp. Alan comes away unsathed, save for three long cuts on his arm.</p><p>Dwayne and Paul are still upside down, screaming their heads off, when David starts dis descent.</p><p>The little boys are frozen in terror, holding onto each other for dear life.</p><p>David swipes at them, but they duck in the nick of time. That’s when you realize, <em>David and his brothers were going to kill them!</em></p><p>You throw yourself in front of Sammy and the Frogs, herding them towards the narrow tunnel from whence they came.</p><p>“Go!” Hoisting Sammy over the ledge, you move to Alan. “<em>Run</em>!”</p><p>Sam heaves Alan up, then leans down for you. “Come on, take my hand! <em>Take my hand!</em> I’m not leaving you here!”</p><p>“Just go!” you call over your shoulder. “I’ll hold them off.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid, this is how people die in horror movies!”</p><p>“Shut up, Sammy!” You all but pull Edgar away from … whatever he was doing, just standing there like a fucking idiot, and start to lift him up, over the ledge.</p><p>He shoves you back, hard. “<em>Betrayal</em>!”</p><p>Inwardly, you groan. You don’t have time for this little shit’s drama. “Edgar, you’ve gotta go!”</p><p>“<em>No</em>.” He grapples with something in his hand. “Filthy, bloodsucker—I knew you’d turn on us! I’m not leaving without taking one of you down.”</p><p>You barely catch a glimpse of the wooden stake in his hand before its driven clean through your stomach with a sickening <em>squelch</em>.</p><p>You don’t even have time to scream.</p><p>He just …</p><p>Blood spurts from the wound. Eyes wide, you clamp your hands over the wooden shaft. It’s as thick as your arm and as long as it, too. A crudely whittled piece of wood, splintered and dead, driven into your gut.</p><p>And then the pain comes.</p><p>You think you make a noise but your not sure. All the screaming melds with the roaring of blood in your ears. You trip over your own feet and fall, but before you can hit the ground, someone catches you.</p><p>The scent of sage. Cold skin. Corded bracelets. <em>Dwayne</em>.</p><p>You can barely see his face, his hair obscures most of his features, but you see his red-and-yellow eyes and you <em>know</em>.</p><p>He eases the two of you to the ground and cradles your head. Your name falls from his lips, over and over again, like a prayer. You want to know why <em>he’s</em> panicking when <em>you’re</em> the one with the giant splinter in you.</p><p>“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”</p><p>You wheeze in response.<em> No, I’m not. </em>Another face comes into your vision. It’s Marko.</p><p>“You saved my fucking life,” he says in disbelief. He bends to get a good look at the wound, but flinches away. “Shit, did it go all the way through?”</p><p>“I think so,” says Dwayne.</p><p>You cough, ruby red droplets spraying from your mouth.</p><p>“<em>Shit</em>.”</p><p>Paul nearly trips over you. Unlike Dwayne and Marko, his face has shifted back to normal. And you’re struck in that moment with how beautiful he really is. Those crystal blue eyes, the very first ones you saw that night on the boardwalk, were filled with so much fear.</p><p>“Baby, baby, look at me.” Paul cups your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna make this right. Just hang on—David’s gonna fix this, okay?”</p><p><em>David</em>. You try to look, but you can’t see him. Your right lens has a blood splotch in the center, further inhibiting your view.</p><p>You grunt, your voice barely louder than a whisper “Don’t … don’t kill the-them … They’re just—just kids … they don’t know …”</p><p>Marko snarls. “Those <em>kids</em> just skewered you.”</p><p>“They … thought they—they were doing … w-what was right.” You whimper as you try to shift. The pain in your gut is too much to bear, like a fire. You just want to close your eyes and sleep. “… They’re <em>scared</em>.”</p><p>“No, no, no.” Paul lightly slaps your face. “Open your eyes.”</p><p>You want to tell him that you would if you could, but your eyelids are too heavy. Besides … when you close your eyes … and you start to drift … the pain isn’t so bad …</p><p>Your jaw is forced open. Sticky, sweet blood pour down your throat. You open your eyes a crack to find Dwayne’s forearm in your mouth. You make an attempt to suck, but it’s too much energy. </p><p>All you want to do is sleep.</p><p>In the distance, you hear Marko rage. “She’s gotta feed—<em>Damnit</em>, <em>David</em>, what’s taking so long?!”</p><p>Paul’s hand ghosts over the stake. “We’ve gotta take this thing out.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” said Dwayne. Paul jerks his hands back. “That’s the only thing keeping her from bleeding out completely.”</p><p>“She’s not going to be able to <em>heal</em> properly if we don’t.”</p><p>“She’ll die before that happens.” Dwayne removes his arm. “She needs a human. That’s the only way…”</p><p>A four scent wafts over you. <em>David</em>. You can feel him looming over you.</p><p>Marko is up in arms the moment he sees him. “Where’s the kid?”</p><p>“They got away.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“They <em>got</em> <em>away</em>!” David roars. “And they took Star and Laddie. There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”</p><p>A cough racks your body. The slightest of movement causes the stake to shift and you whimper. You wished they would pull the fucking thing out if only to put you out of your misery.</p><p>The cave is deafeningly silent. Someone touches your chin. “She might <em>not</em> <em>have</em> until sunset.”</p><p>“She does.” David knelt to your side. “She does because she has to.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Michael! Start the car!” Sam screams. However, Michael was unresponsive, passed out in the drivers seat. “Michael! Mike! Shit. I’ll have to drive.”</p><p>He shoved Michael into the back seat with the two half-vamps they saved. The movement jostles Michael, not enough to fully wake him, but rouse him enough to ask a question. “Where’s…?”</p><p>“Your sister’s toast,” growls Edgar. He and Alan stood as far from the car as possible. “We don’t ride with vampires.”</p><p>“Then stay,” Sam spat. He had half a mind to leave them where they stood, especially with what Edgar pulled in the cave.</p><p>They could see the seriousness in his eyes and for a moment, they looked truly terrified. “We do, now.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Paul tugged on the ends of his hair. “It’s not working.”</p><p>“It’s not <em>going</em> to work,” snapped Marko. “She needs human blood. That’s the only way.”</p><p>David removed his arm from your mouth, a trickle of blood falling from your lips.</p><p>Your eyes would flutter open every now and again. Their blood gave you energy, but they were, at best, prolonging the inevitable. You were only <em>half</em>-vampire, and while Edgar hadn’t hit your heart, he’d sliced enough vital organs to make it deadly.</p><p>The only reason you hadn’t died yet was because the boys had force fed you enough of their blood to keep your body from shutting down entirely.</p><p>Your sweater clung to your back, your own blood making the fabric stick to your skin.  A pool of it had accumulated under you, mingling with the dirt and grime and God-knows what else.</p><p>“We’re lucky it wasn’t the heart,” Dwayne murmurs.</p><p>“We would be lucky,” David hissed, “if it hadn’t happened at all.”</p><p>“Don’ fight … ” you slur. “Not … not worth it.” You break out into another coughing fit. More blood splatters onto your chin.</p><p>“Don’t talk, baby. Save your strength. We’ll fix this, I promise.”</p><p>The boys took their places around the cave. They were exhausted. Even though the sun couldn’t reach them, they could still feel its pull, much like they could feel the moon’s pull. David took the wall furthest from you, near the cavern entrance.</p><p>Marko perched himself on a tall ledge, watching over from above.</p><p>Dwayne hadn’t once moved, keeping you situated on his legs, your head in his lap. He rested his head against the wall, fingers idly carding through your hair.</p><p>Paul sat the closest, knees drawn up to his chest. He kept staring at the offending stake, lips trembling.</p><p>All had been quiet for a while. You were starting to fall asleep when Paul spoke up, his voice small. “It was us, you know?”</p><p>You hum lightly.</p><p>“The stuff … I dunno. At first it started as a joke, I guess. I found a dumb little shell and thought <em>hey, wonder if she’ll notice this</em>, you know?” He drums his fingers against his lap. “And when I went back to check it was gone … We all took turns finding dumb shit and leaving it. I … I dunno.”</p><p>“Are … are you talking … about the stuff on my window?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>The corner of your lips quirks upwards. You hadn’t thought about that in … a while. You supposed it made sense. The moment they started coming over to pick up Michael, the little gifts had appeared. You’d never put two and two together …</p><p>“… Thanks.”</p><p>Dwayne lightly tugged on your hair. “Don’t strain yourself. You’ll have time to talk when you’re better.”</p><p>You try to shift, but the pain prevents you. You’d bled a lot. It was a wonder any of them were able to contain themselves, especially after what you witnessed on the beach …</p><p>Tilting your head, you study Dwayne’s face. The curve of his lip. The strong like of his nose. “That first night on the boardwalk … were you guys gonna eat me?”</p><p>He smiles softly. “Thought about it.”</p><p>“But then we decided you were too cute,” said Paul. “And that keeping you would be more fun than killing you.”</p><p>Laughing breathlessly, you ask, “That true?”</p><p>“Partially,” said David, voice gruff. He offered no other explanation, voice leaving no room for questions.</p><p>“So if I hadn’t been so cute, you would’ve eaten me.”</p><p>“Maybe,” says Paul.</p><p>But David interjects again. “No.”</p><p>You smiled. Your lower half was feeling quite numb now. And cold. You shivered lightly. The cave was cold anyway, you should’ve remembered that and dressed warmer. Instead, you wore your ‘dowdy’ clothes, as they had so eloquently called it.</p><p>“I’ve got a question,” said David. “Why did you come back?”</p><p>That was such a complex question, but at the same time it wasn’t. You didn’t have the energy to explain it all to them—hell, you’re not sure you could explain it.</p><p>How could you tell them that the thought of anyone of them dead nearly sent you spiraling over the edge? How could you tell them that a feeling brought you back? Like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.</p><p>They went about it all wrong. They didn’t tell you in the first place—but would you have believed them? No. And if they’d vamped out to prove their point, you would’ve run.</p><p>But ever since the first moment you saw them, there was a feeling growing inside of you. A tether. It only grew stronger as the days passed. When you were with them you didn’t feel out of place. As soon as you had left their side, you were agitated and jumpy. But being back at their side was home.</p><p>Dwayne’s words echoed in your mind. <em>Hypothetically, if you could stay with us forever, would you?</em> You smile. You knew your answer now.</p><p>“Because … <em>forever</em>.”</p><p>The last thing you saw was Dwayne’s crestfallen face before exhaustion overtook you.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Mike?”</p><p>Michael turned away from the window. Sammy stood in the doorway, canteen slung over his shoulder. The boys were about to leave—to prepare the house. That’s when he noticed the tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I messed up, Mike.” His voice was scratchy and broken as he fought the urge to cry. “I’m sorry, I messed up.”</p><p>“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Michael rushed to his brother’s side and patted his shoulder. “If it weren’t for you—me, and Star, and Laddie, we wouldn’t’ve made it.”</p><p>But Sam shook his head. “It’s all my fault.”</p><p>“Nothing’s your fault, Sammy.”</p><p>But he wouldn’t be consoled. He knew that Michael wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t down there in that cave with you when shit hit the fan. He only heard second hand accounts from the Frogs, and Sam was too chicken to contradict.</p><p>Sure, you hadn’t liked the idea from the start—neither had he! In fact, Sam had been more vocal than you right before Edgar nearly staked the little one—Marko, or whatever his name was.</p><p>He did the same exact thing you did, but you were the one who got hurt. And now … now, you were dead. Those bloodsuckers had probably torn you to shreds by now and it was all <em>his</em> fault.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Neverland was weeping.</p><p>You could see the sky from where you laid on your bed of moss, dark and violent. Rain drops fell through the tree hole, like tiny cold razors, slicing at your skin.</p><p>You were <em>so</em> <em>cold</em>. “Can’t we close the window?”</p><p>“No, it has to be open, Wendy Bird.” Dwayne sat at your head, fingers carding through your hair. “If we close it your spirit will be trapped here forever.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t mind being here forever,” you tell him.</p><p>Reaching for his hand, you find you <em>can’t</em> <em>move</em>. Your wrists had been captured by the sinewy tree roots that grew out of your bed frame.</p><p>David, Marko, and Paul all scamper by, dressed in clothes made of woven together leaves, roots, and bark. They paid you no mind as they headed for the window, faces set with grim determination.</p><p>Marko begins to climb through the window and your heart lurches.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“We have to go,” says David. “We have to get the pixie dust.”</p><p><em>The pixie dust</em>. Right, of course. How could you forget—the reason you were tied up in the first place was because you’d forgotten how to fly.</p><p>All the same, you couldn’t stop your bottom lip from quivering. “Don’t leave me, please. Take me with you. I don’t want to be alone.”</p><p>“You’re not alone, Wendy-Bird,” Dwayne murmurs. “You’ll never be alone again.”</p><p>You wanted to believe him, but you could see with your own two eyes how anxious the other three were to leave. Did they not like you anymore? Weren’t they going to help you out of these bonds? You didn’t need the Pixie Dust—you didn’t <em>need</em> to fly. All of the lost boys were natural fliers, they never forgot how to do such a simple task. To them, it was like breathing.</p><p>“You could carry me,” you say. “I don’t need the pixie dust, not when you all can fly. Don’t leave.”</p><p>Marko turned to David. “She’ll die if we don’t do something.”</p><p>“We’ve done everything we can,” snaps David.</p><p>“I won’t die,” you assure them. “I feel perfectly fine. If you can help me out of these bonds—”</p><p>“Shhh.” Paul slips away from the others and steals your attention a kiss. It’s too chaste, very unlike Paul, as he pulls away before getting to the good stuff. “Don’t talk, Wendy Bird. The pirates will here.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>. You shut your mouth, nodding. That would be a bad thing. You had already moved many times this past week in order to evade the pirates, who wanted nothing more than to destroy you and your lost boys.</p><p>Paul smiles, his beauty as radiant as the sun, and kisses you again. This time, he doesn’t stop. He swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips, coaxing your mouth open. His tongue twists around your own. You moan, leaning into him, but Dwayne forces you back against the bed.</p><p>They’re taking off your clothes. It’s hot in Neverland, even with the rain. Your clothes stick to your skin, uncomfortably wet and it almost hurts to have them pried off your skin.</p><p>The rain kisses your bare breasts, but the temperature has changed. The once glacial drops have turned hot and fat. A true, summer storm.</p><p>Your panties are thrown down and your skirt bunched up around your waist. Paul kisses down your chest, tongue swirling around your sensitive buds. He parts with a harsh suck and moves further down until his face is situated at your core.</p><p>The first lick sets you on edge immediately. Hot, liquid pleasure bubbled in your abdomen. Paul throws your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer so you cannot escape his ministrations.</p><p>You toss your head back and Dwayne swallows your moan in a deep, open mouth kiss. It’s slow and hard and sensual all at once. He coaxes your tongue out from your mouth and sucks it into his own.</p><p>You’re <em>close</em>. It wouldn’t take much to send you over the edge. The smallest bit of extra stimulation would do the trick … but Paul wasn’t changing tactics any time soon. Your thighs burn and you clench around his head. Tears burn your eyes. Just a little more, just a little—</p><p>Marko takes you by the chin and guides you away from Dwayne. He stripped himself from his rudimentary clothing and stood before you naked. His cock hangs half-hard between his legs. It’s a comfortable length, not too long and not too thick, but every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.</p><p>You know what he wants you before he asks.</p><p>He pumps his cock thrice before pressing the head to your lips. You open wide, accepting every inch. You take his length all the way, your nose burying in the golden hairs above his length. </p><p>“There you go, baby,” Marko coos. “You know what to do.”</p><p>Abruptly, Paul pulls away, and with him, every ounce of pleasure leaves your body. You’re cold … and scared.</p><p>The tree house around you flickers and morphs into some place new. A dark, damp hole. There is no warmth here. Only terror. The scent of blood is so thick you could choke on it.</p><p>You’re not sucking Marko off anymore, but there’s … <em>something</em> in your mouth. Something warm and fleshy. Something <em>living</em>. It struggles and squirms and screams, the sound like nails on a chalkboard—</p><p>The vision is gone as soon as it started and you are thrown back into the comfort of the tree house, on your bed of moss, with Marko fucking your face. A nightmare, maybe? You’re not sure, but everything around you seems lack-luster and … <em>strange</em>.</p><p>“C’mon, baby.” Marko tugs on your hair. “Just like that.”</p><p>You swallow around him and he groans. <em>Just</em> <em>like</em> <em>that, </em>he says again, only this time his mouth doesn’t move. His voice is distant … Somewhere in another plane of existence.</p><p>You’re plunged back into that dark cave. David kneels beside of you, wrapping his hand around the giant stake protruding from your gut. There is no warning before he rips it out of you.</p><p>You shriek around Marko’s cock, gagging and sputtering, your lungs feeling like they might explode at any moment.</p><p>He pulls back for a moment and allows you to catch your breath. You struggle against your bonds. <em>Your gut is on fire!</em></p><p>David is between your legs, now, length shoved all the way inside of you. “You’re fine,” he says.</p><p>“It has to come out!” you cry. “It hurts! Please, David.”</p><p>“The pain will go away soon. Marko.”</p><p>And just like that, Marko’s back with his cock pressing to your lips. You don’t want it but he gently strokes the back of your head. “You have to drink,” he urges, “Open your mouth, baby.”</p><p>Your lips part and he eases in again. His cock pulses in your mouth and suddenly he’s cumming.</p><p>A voice swam around in your consciousness. “<em>Drink, baby. Just open your mouth and drink.</em> <em>Your body knows what to do.</em>”</p><p>You drank down every last drop. The pain in your gut was still on fire but the fire turned into warm and fuzzy embers. Soon, it was orgasmic. You tossed your head back. The bonds around your wrists went lax and you were floating. Flying.</p><p>Your eyes fluttered shut and you fell over the edge. You were actually falling. You were no longer in the tree house but in falling through the sky, tearing through cotton-candy clouds and plummeting towards the bay.</p><p>And just as your body was about to spatter across the ocean surface—</p><p>
  
</p><p>You sat bolt upright. You were not in a tree house or the sky, but the cave again. That dark, dreary cave—just like in your dream. It took you a moment to remember everything, the dream melting from your mind like snow.</p><p>It was pitch black and at the same time … it <em>wasn’t</em>.</p><p>The darkness is actually several different shades of near-black colors you’d never noticed before. The craggy chamber was swathed in hues of indigo, and emerald, and rust, and navy. Like a kaleidoscope of shadows, the world’s most beautiful painting.</p><p>Standing not three feet from you were your lost boys. David. Dwayne. Paul. Marko. They no longer wore leaves for clothes but leather and bloodstained jeans.</p><p>Your hand falls to your stomach. There is no gaping wound or torn flesh. Your stomach is smooth … Had the offending, bloody stake not laid two feet from you, you could’ve believed it was all a bad dream.</p><p>“I’m alive?”</p><p>Your gaze falls to the ground. There, on the floor, was a dead person. Their limbs jutted in awkward angles, their skin ashen from lack of blood.</p><p>Frightened, you covered your mouth—maybe to stop a scream, or maybe out of impulse. But you touched something cool and wet, smeared across your lips.</p><p>Trembling, you lowered your hand. <em>Blood</em>.</p><p>“You’re one of us.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You would’ve thought you’d take the news harder given how you reacted the first time. Perhaps it was the close-call, or the high that came from consuming human blood. Or, perhaps, becoming a creature of the night killed the rational, emotional human part of your brain.</p><p>“I’m … like you,” you reiterate.</p><p>David’s face is hard to read. “It was the only way.”</p><p>You nod and look back at the broken human below you. You didn’t recognize them. They must’ve been chosen for convenience rather than revenge.</p><p><em>Revenge</em>. The last time you’d been truly awake, David and the others seemed hell-bent on capturing one of the little boys.</p><p>“Where’s my family?” You step around the body and head for the exit. “You didn’t hurt them, did you?”</p><p>“We haven’t gotten that far, yet,” said Marko.</p><p>David’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. “It isn’t only because they killed you. They took Star and Laddie. That can’t go unpunished.”</p><p>“It wasn’t unprovoked,” you say, “them taking Star and Laddie.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>A beat of silence. All the boys had varying degrees of confusion on their faces. Did they really not know?</p><p>“Star came to us the other night. She wanted Michael to take them away … And somewhere along the line the plan evolved into … Well, it evolved into that shitshow we went through.” You shift your weight, crossing your arms. “My little brother, Sammy, made these friends who think they’re vampire hunters. They’re under the impression if they killed the head vampire then all half-vampires would go back to normal.”</p><p>David studied you. He let you go and put a finger to his lips, concentrating. “So, that’s why you came here.”</p><p>“I couldn’t watch you die.” You turn to them, “Any of you. Those … those little shits decided—once they <em>saw</em> <em>you</em>—that they wanted to stake all of you. If you’re going to punish anyone, punish them. Sammy wanted no part of it. He tried to stop them but they didn’t listen.”</p><p>“And Michael?”</p><p>You frown, “What about Michael?”</p><p>“Where does he fit into this?” finished Marko.</p><p>Shrugging, you say, “I dunno. He doesn’t want this–he wants to be human. And he wants to protect Star. If you’re asking if he wants you dead…” You wince The five of them had hung out every night for a week. You’re not sure how deep that bond went. “I don’t think he was against the Frog’s plan.”</p><p>The air grew tense. David set his jaw, untapped rage hidden behind his crystalline eyes.</p><p>Dwayne, who you’re nearly positive never liked Michael in the first place, is seething. His whole body is tensed, silently seething and probably regretting allowing Michael to get so close.</p><p>Marko isn’t fairing much better. He’s gnawing on the tip of his thumb, looking like he might bite it off at any moment. And Paul … you’d never seen him look like this except once, that night they took you to the bonfire.</p><p>David inhaled sharply and dropped his hands. “Even if that is the case, we need him to turn. I think you can be the key to accomplishing that.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>The night was deathly still. It knew what was going to happen, what had to happen, and all of nature collectively inhaled all at once, holding its breath until it was over.</p><p>As you approached the house, you noted how none of the lights on. If it wasn’t for the fact that you could smell your family—the stale scent of Michael’s blood and Sammy’s ambrosian human blood—you might’ve thought they weren’t home. You might’ve thought they’d hunkered down somewhere else, somewhere safe.</p><p>Luckily, the boys did not simply charge the house. They touched down in the front yard, standing amongst the totem poles and piles of scraps Grandpa had laying about. A viscid, supernatural fog rolled in, swallowing your five figures, hiding them among the graveyard of abandoned projects.</p><p>On the far side of the yard, Nanook was chained to the fence. The moment you touched down, he was barking up a storm, snarling and baring his teeth. There was no way they couldn’t know that you had arrived.</p><p>You stay to the back of the group, clinging to Paul’s arm. <em>This had to be done</em>, you remind yourself, <em>there’s no other way</em>. Once Michael turned, Sammy would surely follow, and Mom after that. Star and Laddie would rejoin the gang and you could all live as one happy family. Never alone again. Never scared. Forever young.</p><p>David stepped ahead of the group, pacing. He came no closer than three feet of the front porch. “Michael Emerson!” he shouts, tauntingly, “Come on down! I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”</p><p>No movement. Your eyes scoured the windows, only to find each and everyone of them blocked. There was no movement. The heartbeats inside picked up astronomically, even the slower-beating hearts you knew to be the half-vampires hiding.</p><p>“C’mon, Michael! We know you’re in there. We know you have Star and Laddie. We know about your little plan to destroy us, but think about it, Michael. Do you really want to kill me? After all I’ve done for you?”</p><p>A face in the window. It was too quick for you to know who it was, but the movement caught your eye. Other than that, the house remained calm.</p><p>The boys began to fan out. Paul and Dwayne fanned out, Paul keeping you close. Marko stalked up to a window, tapping on the glass playfully.</p><p>“Michael!” David tried again. “You’re protecting traitors! They’re going to stab you in the back the moment they get the chance.”</p><p>The door was flung open so fast, it was nearly ripped off its hinges. Michael. He appeared, eyes a blazing yellow, face half-shifted into that of a vampire.</p><p>He charged the group, “Don’t you dare—!”</p><p>You untangle yourself from Paul and throw yourself in front of David. Michael comes to a staggering halt.</p><p>From the house, you hear a shriek. “Holy shit!”</p><p>“The Concubine of the Damned is back!”</p><p>Both Edgar and Alan peer around the doorway, armed to the teeth with bows and arrows and garlic. Edgar takes aim, “Give me one reason not to stake you again!”</p><p>Marko hops out from behind the bush and hisses. It scares the shit out of them and Edgar accidentally releases his arrow, sending it flying. It it’s the nearby totem pole, bouncing upwards and landing somewhere in the tall grass.</p><p>Snatching the bows from their hands, Marko breaks them over his knee. “Careful—you could hurt someone with that thing.”</p><p>Michael stares at you, mouth agap, as if he’s looking at a ghost. He blinks—unable to fully process what he’s seeing. But, it’s you. <em>It’s really you</em>. He whispers your name in a low, broken voice. “How are you here? They said … They said you were <em>dead</em>.”</p><p>“I should be.” You toy with the bottom of your sweater, which is crusted with your dried blood. The ragged hole in the center has the worst of it, but the smooth skin it displays beneath says it all. “In a way, I guess I am. If it weren’t for them, I …”</p><p>A breeze rustles the trees. A wind chime plays slow and soft.</p><p>“No.” Michael’s expression melted into that of pure horror. “Don’t tell me … You’re not … You can’t be.”</p><p>You narrow your eyes, voice hard. “I was <em>dying</em>, Michael, no thanks to you. Those little shits skewered me for no reason.”</p><p>“You turned on us!” shouted Edgar. “She’s lying, man! We saved your ass! She’s a vampire loving freak! A traitor to our species!”</p><p>“I wasn’t about to let them <em>kill</em> for the <em>sake</em> <em>of</em> <em>killing. </em>Ask Sammy, he was there. He knows I’m innocent.”</p><p>Michael says nothing. The information comes at him in an endless barrage. He frowns, brows creasing. What you said was contrary to what the Frogs told him, and Sam kept tight-lipped about most of the details, all save for his guilt.</p><p>Your eyes darted to your little brother, half-hidden by the doorway. “Sammy, please. You were there. I know you were having second thoughts, you tried to get them to stop. You <em>know</em> what really happened.”</p><p>Michael turned, pain and betrayal clear in his eyes. “Sam?”</p><p>Sam swallowed hard. He was just as surprised to see you, maybe more. He thought surely you’d be dead. Not once had the thought of them turning you crossed his mind. Sam wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or scared.</p><p>Anxiously, he tightened his grip on his gun or holy water. “She called out to one of them and they woke up, right as Edgar was about to stake the little one. They were going to kill us but … but she helped get us out. That was when Edgar … That was when he…”</p><p>Michael tensed.</p><p>Edgar and Alan’s pulses accelerated, beating out of control. You could smell their fear from where you stood, pungent and <em>enticing</em>.</p><p>“Now you see, Michael.” David snakes his arm around your shoulder. “You’re harboring traitors. Those kids tried to kill your sister. When she was bleeding out, where were you? Where were you, Michael? You were here, harboring traitors. Here, planning to kill us, while we dud everything in our power to save <em>your</em> sister.”</p><p>“I didn’t …” Michael looks back at you, blanching. “I didn’t know.”</p><p>David narrows his eyes. “But you know now. Take a good look at her, Michael. You <em>made</em> her into one of us. You killed her the moment you decided to take those boys to us. How does it feel to be a monster?”</p><p>Frantically, Michael whispers your name, pleading you to understand. “Please … I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would happen.”</p><p>A part of you wants to be angry with Michael. You want to make him suffer—to make him feel pain. But you understand. Michael was so caught up in the seduction of the group and their monstrous nature that he hadn’t once considered the backlash his involvement would have on your family.</p><p>“What’s done is done, Mikey,” you murmur. “You can’t change it.”</p><p>Paul came your side and draped his arm over your opposite shoulder, face hard. He gave you a protective squeeze. <em>I’m here</em>, it said, <em>you’re not alone</em>.</p><p><em>You’ll never be alone again</em>.</p><p>And you wouldn’t—you believed that. You had them, and soon you’d have your family.</p><p>“Do you still want to kill us, Michael?” asks David. He smiled, tauntingly, like he already knew what his answer would be. “Or, do you want to defend your sister? Clean up the mess you made?”</p><p>The coercion in his words danced through the air, caressing Michael’s mind. It was tangible and intangible, a tugging sensation in the gut. Michael’s eyes flashed. His fist clenched. You could feel his resistance—pushing against David, fighting the pull.</p><p>But Michael is weak. He wasn’t able to resist temptation before and he couldn’t resist it now. Not when he was already worn ragged, his endurance all but spent on the day’s earlier action.</p><p>Michael faces the house.</p><p>The Frogs had their stakes poised, but their arms were trembling. They were afraid. They hadn’t been scared when they killed you, they had been determined. But now, faced with the consequences of their actions, they trembled.</p><p>Star comes running out the front door, “Michael, don’t do this. You know this isn’t right.”</p><p>“Get out of the way, Star.”</p><p>“I won’t let you ruin yourself.”</p><p>“I said, <em>get out of the way</em>!”</p><p>Hurt flashes across her face. A slow tear trickles down her cheek. You expect her to put up more of a fight, but she moves aside. Laddie comes running to her and she holds him as if her life depends on it.</p><p>“Mike,” Sam drawls, “Let’s talk about this. Okay? Let’s all take a step back and talk about this like normal people.”</p><p>Michael’s eyes flash yellow. He snarls, gnashing his teeth at the boy. “Whose side are you on, Sammy?”</p><p>Sam opened his mouth, then promptly shut it. He lowered his gaze, focusing on his shoes.</p><p>Michael shot through the yard like a bullet before anyone had time to react. He tackles Alan to the ground, his head making a sickening crack when it slammed against the wooden floor.</p><p>He was screaming, his brother was screaming. Michael wrenched the stake from his hand, tossing it away. The screams were cut short, a gurgle, and then nothing.</p><p>“Alan!” Edgar rushed Michael, but Sammy held him back. “You killed my brother, you vampiric piece of shit! <em>I’ll kill you!</em>”</p><p>“Michael, that’s enough!”</p><p>Star attempts to tear him off the boy, but the moment she touches him Michael reacts like a man possessed. He hits her hard, sending her flying halfway across the yard, landing somewhere near the shed.</p><p>Laddie’s eyes go wide. “<em>Star</em>!”</p><p>You flinched, burying your face in Paul’s neck. You weren’t much that your brother just brutally murdered a little boy in front of your eyes as you were bothered by the scent of blood. It awoke an unearthly hunger inside of you and you felt like you’d been starving up until this point. Your throat aches, dehydrated and raw.</p><p>Paul was affected as well. You felt him shift beside you, his Adam’s apple bobbing. It occurred to you that you’re not sure the boys ate.</p><p>You don’t see Michael kill Edgar as much as you hear it. The boy, who had been shouting profanities, came to a sudden stop. Then, Michael grunted. Your head shoots up to see as Edgar drives his stake through Michael’s side before having his throat torn out.</p><p>When he falls limp, Michael removes the stake. He curses, tossing it to the ground. It missed his heart by a mile, much like yours had, and the wound sealed up almost instantly.</p><p>Your boys whooped and hollered when it was all over. “Bravo, Michael!”</p><p>He stood there, chest heaving, face of a monster. Blood coated his chin, staining his shirt. His eyes, more vibrant than before, flitted over all of the boys before landing on you. A silent communication passed between you at that moment. </p><p>Michael had struggled to contain his vampiric nature ever since you’d come back from that bonfire massacre. It had only taken a little nudge, either by David’s doing or his own protective instincts, for him to snap.</p><p>Now, there was no going back.</p><p>You couldn’t say you felt sad, though. Sure, you pitied Michael, who had been struggling tremendously ever since your arrival. You pitied him because he hadn’t wanted this, and in a way you hadn’t either, but … you didn’t feel bad about it.</p><p>“Welcome to the club,” said Marko. “Glad you made the right decision.”</p><p>Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cringing away from the carnage. Unlike you, who had been turned in a delirious state of mind, Michael had been fully conscious of his actions.</p><p>You advance on him, making your steps gentle as possible. He flinched, shying away. Sorrow weighed heavily on his brow.</p><p>You lay a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”</p><p>“For what? For killing them?” he spits.</p><p>“No. For <em>believing</em> me.” You bring him into a hug. “I … I thought you hated me.”</p><p>“You’re annoying and you hog the bathroom … but I couldn’t hate you,” he points out. “You might be a vampire, but you’re still my sister … And … And it’s my fault you turned. That you had to turn.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze him tighter and spy Sam over his shoulder. “It’s not anyone’s fault. This whole thing—it’s a mess, and there’s not one truly guilty party. No use playing the blame game.”</p><p>You pull away and smile. Sam eases out of the doorway, tears in his eyes.</p><p>“It’s easy once you turn,” you tell them. “That’s what they say, anyway. But think about it—really think about it. We’ll never grow old, we’ll never die, and we’ll never be alone. Ever again.”</p><p>“What about Mom?”</p><p>“Do you really think we’d leave her behind?” You make a face. “Fat chance.”</p><p>Sam frowns, “I … I don’t know if I want that. Being a vampire—it’s wrong. Mike, you just killed two guys. Don’t you feel … anything?”</p><p>“Of course I do, Sammy. Do you think I wanted to kill them?” Michael swallows hard. “But … But they killed our sister. We killed our sister. And she’s going to live forever, Sammy. I guess I am too … but would it be fair to make her live forever <em>alone</em>?”</p><p>Before Sam could answer, a car sped into the drive way. Everyone turned, squinting through the bright headlights to see who it was. You recognize the car as Max’s.</p><p>Mom bursts out of the passenger seat and runs for the house. She doesn’t see you until she’s halfway there.</p><p>“Oh, honey!” She threw herself onto you, sobbing into your shoulder. “Honey, I was so worried. So worried. Where have you been?”</p><p>“It’s a long story, Mom.”</p><p>“I thought you promised me that if you ran away we would talk about it.”</p><p>You chuckle, trying your best to avoid her neck. The scent of her blood was heavy and thick, her heart beat pounding loudly in your ears. You couldn’t deny that at least a part of you wanted to open your mouth and let your fangs slip in and—</p><p>“Things happen, Mom,” you mutter. “You understand.”</p><p>Her bottom lip trembles. She strokes your cheek, forcing a smile. “I <em>do</em>. I understand. I was just so scared, honey. All I wanted was for you to be safe and happy.”</p><p>Unable to endure her scent any longer, you push away.</p><p>“Honey? What’s wrong?”</p><p>You step back to Dwayne’s side. “It’s nothing, Mom. I’ll … I’ll explain later. I’ll explain everything later.”</p><p>She accepts your words then turned to Michael and Sam—and that’s when she saw <em>them</em>. The two, mutilated little boys.</p><p>“Oh, my God! What … What happened here?!” She regarded Michael with wide, unblinking eyes. “What is this?!”</p><p>Max was leaning over the two deceased boys, examining them. Then, he stood and brushed off his jacket. Kissing her forehead, he said, “Don’t worry about it, Lucy.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about—Max, do you know what that is? Those are—those are people. Oh, my God, I’m going to get sick.” She sways but Sammy is there to catch her.</p><p>“I promise everything will make sense, okay Mom? We—all of us—are going to have a private family talk and go over things like normal, clear headed adults. Breathe for me, okay?”</p><p>Your focus shifts back to Max who was … not perturbed in the slightest. Actually, he seems happy. He grins at David.</p><p>And that was when you could only hear <em>two</em> heartbeats. Mom’s and Sam’s. You don’t even heart Star or Laddie, they must’ve run off sometime before the others came.</p><p>“I must say,” Max chuckles. “Two-out-of-three isn’t bad at all, boys. Quite the accomplishment.”</p><p>You frown. <em>Two-out-of-three?</em> Was he talking about the Frogs’? You’d never seen a third, but maybe they had a parent or an older sibling.</p><p>But still. Why would Max care about … <em>that</em>? Beside you, Dwayne stiffens.</p><p>He lays his hand over his ‘heart’. “I confess, I didn’t see you don’t <em>that</em> well, what with your track record; but I am grateful to be proved wrong. Bravo, boys.”</p><p>You whisper in Dwayne’s ear, “What is he talking about?”</p><p>Sam gasps, “I <em>knew</em> it! I knew it was <em>you</em>!”</p><p>“Sam,” Mom says, “Max—what’s happening here?”</p><p>Max removes his glasses, chuckling. “I’m sorry, Lucy, this all must be a great deal to take in. I had planned on telling you tonight over dinner but … well … like always, something had to happen. Though, I suppose this isn’t a horrible way to find out. Quite the opposite.” He gestures to your boys. “My sons. I believe I’ve mentioned them once or twice.”</p><p><em>His … sons? </em>You take a half-step back, untangling yourself from Dwayne.</p><p>“Say ‘hello’, boys, don’t be rude.”</p><p>They didn’t. They stand impossibly still, expressions unreadable, save for David who has hatred in his eyes. Max shifted his jaw to the side, joy melting into … contempt.</p><p>“It’s like I said, Lucy. The boys need a mother. They need a heart and you, well, you’re perfect. So kind and generous—giving without expecting to receive anything in return. We’ll have a wonderful life. Your children and mine. One, big, happy family.”</p><p>“Max, I don’t understand.” She touches her throat. “What are you talking about.”</p><p>“I knew the moment I saw you, I had to have you. Forever. I figured it would, naturally, take a bit of convincing on my part. After all, this isn’t something to be taken lightly. I understand that. No harm in admitting it. But, I knew it would be a lot easier to convince you if your children had turned. After all, what mother wouldn’t want to be with her children for all eternity?”</p><p>“It’s you!” Sam shouts, “You’re the head vampire. You were all along! How did you pass the tests?”</p><p>Max shot him a look. “Don’t ever invite a vampire into your house, silly boy. It renders you powerless.”</p><p>“But I didn’t…”</p><p>Michael’s face falls.</p><p>Max makes a face, as if to say <em>Well there you have it</em>.</p><p>A lump formed in your throat. Max wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.</p><p>In a way, it was a large relief. None of them had been the head vampire after all. They were just … <em>them</em>. Your lost boys. But, they also weren’t yours. Every word Max spoke left you nauseous.</p><p>“You … You tricked me,” you murmur. “I thought that you … You all said that you … But you didn’t. It-It was because of <em>him</em>?”</p><p>It dawned on you, what they had said back in the cave. They teased you, saying they hadn’t eaten you the first night because you were <em>cute; </em>but there was another reason. One that David hadn’t wanted to tell, even with you on your death bed. This was it. This—Max and his plan—was the secret he’d been protecting.</p><p>Tears burned your eyes. “It was all a lie.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be mad at them,” says Max. “They do like you, I know that for certain. Though, <em>I suppose</em> that does make things a tad awkward … but who am I to judge? As long as my family is happy, then I am happy. But what I need to be happy is you, Lucy.”</p><p>Max’s face rippled. His brow bone pushed forward, forming a permanent scowl. Two, sharp cheekbones jutted out of his once slender face—the visage of a killer. It was similar to the boys’, but <em>worse</em>. His fangs were huge and pointed, jutting down past his lower lips. He flashed his fangs, tongue lolling out like a snake’s, far too long and pointed.</p><p>Mom screams, pulling Sam out of the house as fast as she could. They try to make a run for it but Max was quick. He snatched Mom’s hand, pulling her into his chest. “Don’t fight, Lucy, it’s so much easier when you don’t fight.” </p><p>Your vision bleeds red. You’re not going to let anyone hurt her ever again—that was the vow you made the moment the divorce papers were final.</p><p>You launch yourself at Max, but your hand barely grazes Mom’s shoulder before Max grabs ahold of your wrist and squeezes. There’s a crush and white hot pain spreads through your arm. You scream in agony, but he doesn’t stop there. He flings you away and you soar through the air.</p><p>A totem pole slows your momentum as you crash through it, snapping the wood in half with a thunderous crack. The softest part of it all was landing on the ground.</p><p>The white hot shoots up your arm and down your back. Your head throbs. You’re certain that if you’d human, you’d be dead.</p><p>But you weren’t human anymore, which meant that instead of dead you were left with crippling agony.</p><p>Someone shouted your name, but you couldn’t distinguish the voice through the ringing in your ears. Your body felt heavy. You didn’t even want to <em>try</em> to move.</p><p>Dwayne was by your side in an instant. Your vision blurs, and you couldn’t tell if it was from hitting your head or losing your glasses.</p><p>“You’re okay,” he assurs you. “Where does it hurt?”</p><p>“<em>Mom</em>—I have to help my mom.”</p><p>“You won’t do her any good if you’re injured.” He’s silent, weighing his options, then says, “Open your mouth.”</p><p>You shoot up, ignoring the pain. “I don’t want any more of your blood in my system.”</p><p>“You’re hurt, it’s the only way—”</p><p>You shove him away with your good arm. “Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”</p><p>You can’t have him—any of them—touch you right now. Not in this mess. You needed to focus on saving your family first, deal with Max some how, and then … maybe you’d hash things out with your boys.</p><p>Max grabs Sammy by the neck and pulled him to his side. “Join me, Lucy. Join me and I’ll let your family live.”</p><p>You were prepared to launch another attack, when the sound of Gradnpa’s truck came barreling up the drive. He was moving at full speed and slammed into the new fence posts he’d been working so hard to finish.</p><p>The vampires scatter. Dwayne throws you over his shoulder and leaps into the sky, the two of you narrowly avoiding the wooden projectiles.</p><p>Though you can’t see much, you spot Mom’s prone form on the grass and what you thought looked like Sam covering her.</p><p>A thick, ten foot tall post barrels towards Max. He had no time to react before it struck him directly through the chest, punching a hole out in the center, and coming through the other side. He fell back, the debris shattering the windows of the home.</p><p>And then—fire. One, great explosion, claiming the front part of the house. As soon as it appeared it was gone, and Max was no more.</p><p>Dwayne hovers in the air until he’s sure the flames have completely reseeded. He keeps his grip on you firm, so that no matter how hard you twist and turn you cannot escape him until you’re both safely on the ground.</p><p>You run to Mom at full speed. She’s prepared for you, though, and accepts you with open arms. Sammy hugs you, too, the three of you crying and laughing because everything’s <em>okay</em>. Everyone’s <em>safe.</em></p><p>Mom spots Mikey and opens her arms to him. “Michael.”</p><p>He doesn’t come up with some bullshit excuse this time. He doesn’t even care that David and his brothers are watching the whole encounter. He, much like yourself, runs to Mom and envelops the four of you in a great big bear hug.</p><p>You happen to open your eyes and see the blurry, misshapen forms of your lost boys. They linger near the edge of the yard, unmoving. Four, black shadows frozen in time. They don’t seem to know what to do.</p><p>You want to push away from Mom and run to them and—</p><p><em>You can’t</em>. Not after what Max told you: they were ordered to change you and your brothers so that Max could win over Lucy. They hadn’t denied anything—not what Max said and nothing you said. Hell, you still didn’t know what you were to them. Between you running away and dying, there hadn’t been much time for conversation.</p><p>You squeeze your eyes shut, tears spilling down your cheeks. It’s not for them. You’d never cry over any man—or men—you tell yourself. It’s because you <em>survived</em>. It’s the adrenaline catching up with you. (At least, it’s easier to think that way.)</p><p>Grandpa hops out of his truck, eyeing the area with disgust. When he spots David and his gang hanging around the back, his expression sours.</p><p>“<em>Dad</em>.” The four of you break apart, waiting for Grandpa to join your group hug, but he doesn’t. “Dad?”</p><p>With an air of superiority you’d never seen him possess, said, “One thing I never could stomach about Santa Carla; all the damn vampires. Gimme one reason not to kill you here and now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>The boardwalk was crowded that night. It’s a Friday, and that meant tickets to live performances were half-priced. You made your way through the crowd, savoring your cotton candy as you headed to your favorite spot above the stage.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cover band they hired wasn’t half bad. You found yourself bobbing your head along with the music. <em>Time</em> <em>of</em> <em>the</em> <em>Season</em>. A classic. Below you, the crowd undulated, each swaying with the music at their own pace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Swinging your legs over the rail, you perch yourself on the top bar. The summer breeze ruffles your sundress. You finished your cotton candy far too quickly, but it was too late to get another. You didn’t want to ruin your dinner.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sat up there, avoiding a run-in with boardwalk security, for three more songs before you were interrupted. A hand smacked your ass, making you jump. Good thing you had a good grip on the railing or else things could’ve gotten messy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damn, baby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You turn, eyeing the offender coyly. “Can I help you, boys?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a pack of them, maybe five or six. Each with a glowing tan. Surfers, you decided. Not like the assholes you normally dealt with. Out-of-towners.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The ass-grabber was cute, you wouldn’t deny it. His blond hair fell in curly ringlets around his face, coming just under his chin. Straight teeth. Muscles. His veins were prominent along his arms, especially in his hands. You bit your lip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ass-grabber smirks, looking you up and down.  “What’s your name?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shouldn’t we have done this the other way around?” you say. “You ask for my name and <em>then</em> cop a feel.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boy chuckled nervously. His friends shove him around, jeering. “Sorry ‘bout that. Couldn’t help it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t say I minded.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pauses, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. It’s almost like he didn’t expect to get this far. You lower your gaze, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Yeah, he’s really cute.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m Jake.” He sticks out his hand, and you accept it, giving him your name in return. “What’s a babe like you doing out here all alone?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” You push your glasses up, then tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not alone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” you giggle. “My friends are running late, so I’m killing time before I meet them. We’re gonna get a bite to eat.” You eye the boys curiously, pursing your lips. “Do you ... wanna come with?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The one in the back nudges his friend. “Are they as cute as you, <em>chica</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Depends on your type,” you fire back. His eyes spark with interest. You swing your legs around the railing, dress fluttering up just enough that they caught a flash of your underwear, and hopped off. “C’mon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lead them off the boardwalk and onto the sand. Several groups have already started camping out, bonfires and night surfers clogging up any spare space. But you know where to go. The six of you walk for several minutes, trading flirty banter until you reach a less crowded stretch of beach with one, loan bonfire.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom stands almost immediately when she sees you, grinning from ear to ear. “There you are, honey! Who are your friends?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, that one’s Jake, but the rest have been pretty stingy with their names. Boys, this is my Mom, and those over there are my brothers, Mike and Sammy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Michael glares at the boys from where he sits. He doesn’t even try to be civil. Sam, on the other hand, stands from his log and goes to shake their hands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi, guys, nice to meetcha. Hope she didn’t bore you on the way over.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys stiffen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You flick his forehead. Sammy dramatically grabs his arm, pouting. “Sorry ‘bout him. Little brothers, you know?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>He’s</em> your little brother?” asks Jake.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You suppose you could understand their confusion. Sammy had grown quite a bit over the years and looked like he was in his mid-twenties, while you still had the fresh face of a nineteen-year-old. Calling him your ‘little brother’ was strange, but you refused to let it go. He might’ve looked older, but you were born first.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Growth spurt,” Sam supplies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys go quiet.  You can see it in their eyes, the sudden discomfort of their situation. They hadn’t expected walking into, well, something like this. For the longest time, they just stand there, debating whether to turn around or see it through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom and Sammy return to their previous conversation. Mike finally stops glaring and turns his attention towards the sky, laying on his back with his legs propped up on the log.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, uh ...” One of the boys rubs his neck. “Where're your friends?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’ll be here soon.”  You step forward awkwardly.  “Sorry I didn’t mention my family. I thought you might be a little ... reluctant to come if you knew.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes go wide. “Oh, no, it’s not that—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why don’t you sit with me?” You grab his hand, weaving your fingers together. “Tell me about yourself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You and the boys chatted mindlessly while the moon rose higher and higher in the sky. Tonight, it was full and bright. Few clouds dotted the skyline. Orion could be seen overhead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It wasn’t long until you felt <em>them</em>. Their combined scents wash over you in a wave of calm. All tension evaporates from your body.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko gets to you first. He throws his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against him. He pays no mind to the human boy sitting beside you, who’d finally worked up the courage to hold your hand but had you unceremoniously ripped from his grasp.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko tilts your head and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Hey, babe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi.” You kiss him again, for good measure, before he releases you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s no space left on the log, so Paul cops a squat on the sand beside you. He grins from ear to ear, eyes slightly glazed over. He must’ve lit up before he came. “Missed you, sugar.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jake frowned. “Who are these guys?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You bend at the waist and kiss Paul. “My boyfriends.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course, Paul doesn’t want a simple peck. He weaves his fingers into your hair, pulling you close so he can kiss you properly. You have to pry him off of you, lightly swatting his shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David and Dwayne simply walk past you, not stopping for a kiss. You pout, narrowing your eyes at the pair. Dwayne relents and pecks your forehead, but nothing more. It’s not what you want but you’ll accept it. David stays firm, face impassive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re <em>late,</em>” you remark. “We were about to start without you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David raises his eyebrows. “We’re here now, aren’t we?” You want to say something snarky, but he shoots you a look that tells you to <em>behave or else</em>. He appraises the surfers, cigarette hanging low between his lips. “Nice catch.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A warm, fuzzy feeling blooms in your chest. “Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jake is slack-jawed, looking between the five of you like he’s watching a tennis match. “What’s going on here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hush,” you snap. “We’ll get to you in a moment, the adults are talking.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” Jake raises his voice, face going red with rage. “What the hell is this, you bitch? What are you, some kind of freak?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David’s eyes flash. He’s lost all patience. In an instant, his face ripples, revealing his vampiric face and he <em>growls</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boy beside you jumps. He turns to you as if to ask <em>are you seeing this?</em> but he’s in for a rude awakening. Your face has shifted, too. You bare your fangs, snarling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everyone followed suit without prompting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Jesus</em> <em>Christ</em>!” Jake stands up too fast and trips over the log, but it’s too late for him anyway. You descend on the boy and tear his throat out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Blood splatters across your cheeks, warm and sticky. You don’t care. All you can focus on is his blood. It’s intoxicating, in every sense of the word. He’s drunk, which adds a bitter aftertaste, but goes straight to your head. You can’t get enough. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It doesn’t take long before he’s dead and his body is cold.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pull back, chest heaving. Though you don’t technically need air, feeding always makes you short of breath. The euphoria happens instantly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Marko spins you around, crushing you to his chest. His gorgeous, golden-red eyes bore into yours with intense hunger.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gathers up the spilled blood which coats your chin with his tongue before kissing you. You fist his jacket, pulling him close. His hands wander down to your ass, giving you a firm squeeze. He tilts your pelvis just right, so you can feel his erection. <em>Fuck</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s always like this after you feed. Something about the blood affects you; it didn’t matter the age of the human, although, your coven generally only picked off late-teen to mid-twenty year old assholes. Maybe that had something to do with it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You were perfectly happy to fuck Marko then and there ... Had Mom not cleared her throat. Reluctantly, the two of you pull apart. Even after all these years, Marko is sheepish when it comes to ‘getting caught’.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mike was on him in an instant, ripping him from your embrace with a snarl. “<em>Dude</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Don’t be bitter, Mikey</em>, you snap mentally.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He rolled his eyes<em>, Up yours</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Bite me.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boys snickered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom stands there, dabbing her face with a torn shirt, wet from the ocean so she could better clean off the blood.  “Please, you two, not in public. We don’t want to give the boardwalk police another excuse to arrest you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two of you speak at the same time. “Sorry, Mom.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry, Ms. Emerson.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She holds up a hand, pacifying you. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You kids have your fun. Mike, Sammy, and I are going to head back to the house. You five don’t stay out too late, understand?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a chorus of <em>yes Ms. Emerson</em>’s as the boys shuffle around, not meeting her eyes. Mom smiles at them and so do you. They could be rather cute when they wanted to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They know they can call her Lucy, but they never do.  (Not even behind her back. If she’s not around, the boys have a habit of calling her <em>Mom</em>, which you find endearing.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sammy’s busy digging through the guys' pockets, collecting their wallets, and any other valuables. Mike and David work on lighting the bodies on fire.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cool! This guy’s got the new iPhone.” He flashed it to the group. “Ah, shit. There’s a passcode.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Try sixty-nine,” suggests Paul.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There are six numbers.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Paul thinks for a moment, then says, “Try sixty-nine three times.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam makes a face but types it in. “No.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dwayne leans over his shoulder, and says thoughtfully, “Try four-twenty twice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam punches in the numbers then grins. “Hey, it worked! Sweet! Thanks, man.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They high-five the way guys do, pulling each other into a chest bump at the end. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head, stifling a laugh. Marko slings his arm over your shoulders. Once everything is cleaned up, either burned or tossed in the ocean, Mom calls it a night. Mike is reluctant to go. He still doesn’t approve of your relationship for whatever reason, but you chalk it up to the protective big brother in him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They take off into the night, flying high above the sea until they breach the clouds.  The crackling fire fills the quiet. It’s a nice night despite the clouds. The full moon inspires more animistic feelings inside all of you. Sunrise was still hours away, leaving plenty of time to do whatever you wanted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So...” You toe the sand coquettishly. “Whaddo you wanna do, now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They share a look. Images flood your mind of <em>exactly</em> what they want to do. Here, on the beach. On top of their motorcycles. Skin-on-skin. A hand around your throat. With you on top, underneath, on your side, on your knees. The images flitted through your mind fast, as if you were flipping through a picture book, each one raunchier than the last.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If it wasn’t for your post-feeding high, you might’ve teased them for being perverts; however, that would be rather hypocritical of you—seeing as you sent your own fantasies their way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, the thoughts slow down. They don’t stop completely because Paul is always thinking something dirty, but you’ve learned to deal. You take a step back, grinning. They know what you’re going to do before you even say it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re gonna have to catch me first.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The hunt was on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sit outside of the cave, dangling your legs over the side of the cliff.  The sun will be coming up, over the horizon soon.  The further it climbs, the wearier you feel.  The sky is tinged purple.  It’ll be a beautiful morning.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You feel David before you hear him.  It’s subtle like someone’s pulling on a string.  Each of the boys has their own, unique pull.  David’s is firm.  Reassuring.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His head pops up as he climbs the stairs, cigarette between his lips.  He’s tired, too, but he can’t go to sleep without you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You coming?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod, “In a minute.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David sighs.  He trudges the rest of the way and sits beside you. As soon as he does, you link your legs together at the ankle, swinging them back and forth. David allows it to happen, his lips quirking upwards.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stares at the sky, watching it slowly change colors, but you’re distracted by a more enticing view.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You study David, the curve of his nose, the stubble on his chin.  Even after all these years, and a supernatural-psychic link between you, you still can’t read him. You wonder if you ever will.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David removes the cigarette from between his lips and flicks it away. “Do you miss it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Miss what?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The sun.”  He turns, putting his hand on your knee. “Being human. Growing old. Maybe having a couple of kids.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Though he hides it well, there’s a sadness in his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shrugging, you say, “No. Not really.” After a moment, you add, “Not anymore.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Those were very human things to want.  Sometimes you'd get a pang in your once-beating heart thinking about it.  Especially if you saw someone your age—not nineteen, but actually your age.  You’d be fifty-three this year.  Most women your age were married and had two-and-a-half kids.  They went to soccer games and drove minivans, and could drink at bars without getting carded.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yeah, sometimes you missed that, but ... you didn’t.  You were literally a different person, now.  You had different wants and a different idea of what your future should look like.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It didn’t start like this—eternal bliss and all that shit. In fact, your <em>true</em> beginning with the boys started a year after the ‘battle’ at Grandpa’s. You allowed them to explain their side—how Max, their sire, had ordered them to turn you and your siblings so he could win Mom. How they couldn’t disobey a direct order because of vampire-logic.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It stung. Because of Max’s order, you couldn’t be sure if what happened with the boys was real; and, though they didn’t say it, you knew they were questioning it, too. How could they not? The command had been to <em>turn the Emerson kids, use whatever means necessary</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You avoided them for a full year. It was difficult, considering you still felt tethered to them. Any time one of them had a particularly strong emotion or thought, it traversed the distance of your bond and hit you head-on. Most of those feelings had been negative. They didn’t like you avoiding them, especially since you were a baby vamp with no one to guide you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eventually, you came back. You and Michael were struggling and with Max gone, David was the new Head. Going to him in your time of need was natural, and the moment you stepped into their arms you’d never felt more secure. They answered all your questions to the best of their abilities, sharing nuggets of wisdom they acquired over the years in hopes it would keep you from making similar mistakes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And as the years went by, your relationship steadily grew. You accepted them as your mates and they, you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your coven only grew after that. Sammy agreed to turn after he was in a gnarly car accident and nearly died at the ripe age of twenty-four. Mom, who had already accepted your lost boys as her own, turned days later. Grandpa had already died by that point, who had vehemently refused to be turned right up until the end. He went in his sleep peacefully and was buried in the backyard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mom took over Grandpa’s old house and converted it into a vampire-friendly haven. She and your brothers live there to this day. They’d been invited to stay in the cave—in fact, David asked them almost every year around Christmas, but Mom politely refused, claiming she wanted to give the five of you your own space.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your human life is far behind you, now. You no longer missed the little things—like the sun or having a beating heart. You were happy, here and now, in your forever.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You eye David, who seemed uncharacteristically wistful, and ask, “Do <em>you</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me?” He scoffs. “It’s been so long ... I don’t even remember what it’s like to be human.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hum. You grin at him, teasingly. “Oh yeah, that’s <em>right</em>. You were born before the invention of sliced bread.” Shaking your head, you snort, “I can’t believe I’m mated to an <em>actual</em> fossil. Tell me, did everyone have a pet T-Rex growing up, or just you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not <em>that</em> old.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s what old people say.” Laughing, you say, “You’re just a dirty old man.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you’re just a silly little girl,” he retorts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You lift his arm off of your knee and wrap it around your shoulder so you can nuzzle his chest. You breathe in his scent; tobacco and leather, and something else that could only be described as a summer day. It was uniquely him and you’d never get tired of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m <em>your</em> silly little girl. You’re stuck with me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>David’s gaze softened. “Yeah, you are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He squeezes your shoulder, kissing the top of your head. Your eyes drooped, nearly too heavy to keep open. The two of you would need to head in soon. If you stayed any longer, you’d be cutting it too close, no doubt earning a lecture from Mom and the others.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Reluctantly, you slipped out from under his arm and stood. You offered David your hand to stand, which he accepted, using it as an excuse to hold you. He wrapped his arms around you and opted to fly you down the stairs rather than walk, but he stopped at the mouth of the cave.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He murmurs your name, almost reluctantly, like he doesn’t want to break the silence. “You know that I ...  that <em>we</em> ...” He trailed off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You reach up and cup his jaw, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  After all these years, he still had trouble saying it. “I know. <em>I love you, too</em>.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>